


I'll Die to Care for You

by thehufflepuffhobbit



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Hobbit Culture & Customs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, One Big Happy Family, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Retelling of The Hobbit, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Slow Burn, Thorin Feels, Thorin is a Softie, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:03:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27576257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehufflepuffhobbit/pseuds/thehufflepuffhobbit
Summary: Mahal feels like Thorin fucked up his legacy and gives him a do over. With foreknowledge, Thorin hopes to reclaim Erebor, correct all his mistakes, and have his happy ending with Bilbo. There's just a pesky dragon and a ring in the way, on top of everything else.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 317
Kudos: 650





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've read a lot of time traveling fics, and I love them. I realized I hadn't seen much with Thorin being the one sent back, so I decided to write it! Please let me know what you all think :D The explicit tag will not be necessary for a hot minute, but it will be coming :D

Thorin knew where he was as soon as the awareness came back to him. It was slow, of course, as the last memories of his life stayed with him. Bilbo's face swam in his mind, covered with grime and blood and tears. He was thankful, in a way. At least he hadn't died without apologizing. He hadn't been able to say everything he wanted, hadn't told Bilbo that he loved him, that he would have married him if given the chance. Maybe that was for the best. Bilbo wouldn't have to be weighed down by a dwarf king's unrequited love for the rest of his life. 

A sigh escaped him, and he finally opened his eyes. The room he was in wasn't wholly unfamiliar to him. The green walls of Erebor were around him, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had died; he was sure of it. He pressed a hand to where he had been stabbed - there was no wound. Slowly, he rose, trying to take in as much of his surroundings as possible. It looked like the healer's rooms from Erebor, before it fell. He had thought that Mahal's Halls would be more unfamiliar, but he supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised. It felt like returning home; the fact that it looked like Erebor only increased that.

A door opened behind him, and he spun quickly to look at the dwarf who entered. He was tall, a few inches taller than Thorin, which not many dwarrow could boast of. His hair was a bright red, with braids interspersed that were bound with simple ties. It was the eyes that were the most captivating, though; a deep amber color that held warmth like a flame as they landed on Thorin. "Well, lad. That could have gone better." Thorin swallowed as the deep voice washed over him, and he dropped to his knees without a second thought. Much as this may have looked like Erebor, it was certainly Mahal in front of him. "Ah, get up. I don't make my children bow to me." 

Mahal came closer and offered a hand to Thorin, which he couldn't help but stare at for a few seconds. When he had thought of what it would be like to meet his Maker, he hadn't expected this… warmth. It had been rare throughout his life that he was met with kindness, and he had assumed it would be the same in his afterlife, even from his Maker. He took Mahal's hand and let himself be pulled up, and then he was pulled into a hug. By Mahal. For a second, Thorin froze, baffled and keeping his body from reacting. "Uh-" It was like being hugged by a furnace. Thorin's arms wrapped around his Maker cautiously at first, and then he felt the strongest desire to burrow and stay within the comforting embrace. 

He wasn't sure how long it lasted, but he knew it went on far longer than he had hugged anyone else in his life. When Mahal released him, Thorin ducked his head, trying to ignore the way tears had welled in his eyes. He felt lighter; not only unburdened from his life, but forgiven from his wrong-doings. "Thank you," he murmured. A warm hand cupped his cheek, encouraging him to lift his head. 

His gaze landed on Mahal's eyes once more. "You did your best, Thorin." It was tempting to look away; he wanted to deny that with everything he had. It certainly didn't feel as though falling into Gold Sickness and then dying was doing his best. Mahal smirked, as though he knew Thorin's desire to contradict him, and pinched his cheek before walking over to a table. "Aye, I didn't think you would believe me. I'm not lying, it certainly could have gone better. More according to my plan, but I know you really did try."

"Your plan?" He didn't know if he should ask, really. Knowing that his Maker had set a course for him, he didn't want to think about the ways he had done everything wrong. There were too many examples of mistakes in his long life, too many opportunities that he had missed that had probably been planned for him from the beginning. 

"Ah, well, I can't tell you that. Let's just say, you would have been much happier. Alive, for one. With your hobbit by your side." 

Thorin's eyes widened as his jaw dropped, despite his wish to appear composed in front of Mahal. He couldn't help his shock, though. He had loved Bilbo, but to know that his Maker was aware and seemed to approve, if the smirk on his face was anything to go by, was something else entirely. To get a confirmation that he and Bilbo were destined… "Were we-"

"Ones? Of course you were. My wife thought he would be an excellent match for you, and she's never wrong. Ever." Mahal flashed him a grin, and Thorin felt the need to sit down, sinking on to a bench close by. 

"Why can't you tell me your plan, though? It's not as though I can do anything about it."

If possible, Mahal's grin grew, and Thorin felt his first spike of apprehension since he woke. The grin on his Maker's face was slightly manic. "Well, that's not entirely true. See, I wanted to greet you, as I do everyone else, but I also wanted to give you a choice. As I said - reclaiming Erebor could have gone better, and the fact that you broke the sickness by yourself... You've accomplished a lot, Thorin, Son of Thrain. I think you've earned a second chance." 

Thorin blinked, his mouth working silently for a moment. That couldn't mean what he thought it did. People weren't just brought back to life. When he did speak, his voice was harsher than he intended in his confusion. He refused to let his hopes get out of control. “A second chance? What does that mean?”

“If you had the chance, wouldn’t you want to be able to go back and do it right? Knowing what you do now?”

Mahal’s voice was kind, and it seemed as though he was truly giving Thorin a choice, despite his clear hope that Thorin complied with his offer. It wasn't being brought back to life on Ravenhill, but to go back and correct. That was better, in some ways. Thorin had much to be ashamed of, especially towards the end, and he didn't know if he could truthfully rule all that well, with all of that in his past. “All of it? Could I prevent Erebor falling?”

At that question, Mahal frowned slightly, looking resigned and sad. “I’m sorry, lad. No, not that. Some things are destined to happen. Erebor falling is one of them, as is you reclaiming Erebor, and your hobbit finding the Ring. Everything else is just details, which can be altered.”

There was a sinking feeling of disappointment. He couldn’t prevent the destruction of his kingdom. But he could get it back, could have Bilbo at his side- “Wait, ring?” 

"Ah, yes. I forgot you don't know about that. Your hobbit found it while you were in Goblintown." Thorin was tempted to say Bilbo's name, as he would with anyone else to make sure that they showed his burglar some respect, but every time Mahal referred to Bilbo as _his_ , it made a warmth bubble in his chest. It had only been moments since he had seen Bilbo last, but he missed him already. Just the thought of getting another opportunity to see Bilbo made the decision solidify in Thorin's mind. The halls could wait for him a bit longer. 

"Why would finding a ring be part of his destiny?"

"It's not just a ring, lad." Mahal's words were soft and as he shook his head, Thorin could see how weary talking about this made him. "It's the Ring. The One. Created by Sauron to help him conquer all of Arda." Thorin's eyes widened, memories of his grandmother telling him tales about the different rings of power. His own father had had one, but the One Ring was lost when Sauron was destroyed. 

So he had been told, anyway. "Bilbo found it?" Mahal nodded and ran a hand through his hair, his stress showing. Thorin was curious about why this topic was affecting his Maker so much, and his voice was cautious when he spoke. "You know what happens with it, don't you?"

Mahal hummed and shrugged his shoulders. "That part isn't so set in stone. If you don't go back and make changes, it will likely still be destroyed, though not for a long while. But that gives Sauron too much time to gain power. But-" Mahal's frowned and cast a suspicious glance at Thorin, who merely raised an eyebrow at him. "You're trying to find out what I want you to do."

"I am." There was no point in denying it. "It sounds as though you want to send me back not just for my own happiness, but so that I can see the ring destroyed in a time more pleasing to you." He felt as though he should be more bothered about that. Being used as an instrument. If it was any other being, any other Valar, he might have been. But this was Mahal, the one who had made him, and having his Maker's faith in him was a soft push, something that he deemed pointless to resist. 

"You're not wrong. It would be better for everyone if your hobbit destroyed the Ring as soon as possible when Erebor is reclaimed."

"Why-" Thorin cut his question off, memories of Gandalf's little riddles and words coming back to him. He ran a hand over his face as he sifted through all the ramblings of the wizard that he recalled. Gandalf hadn't approached him out of the goodness of his heart, Thorin knew. It was part of the reason Thorin had been so suspicious of the wizard, that he wouldn't just say outright why Erebor was so important to him. There was ulterior motive, and a little bit of thought now that he wasn't so distracted pointed him straight to it. "Erebor would be dangerous if it was taken by the Enemy. With Erebor gone, Rohan would fall easily, and then on to Gondor and continue out west." Mahal nodded, and raised an eyebrow for him to go on, as though Thorin was forgetting something. With a sigh, he continued, "And if Erebor isn't reclaimed, Smaug could be swayed to join the enemy."

"Well, more like Smaug would immediately join with the enemy when given a chance. Not like you all could sway the beast to your side" Thorin sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. That was so much information to take in, on top of his own death- What, an hour ago?

"Why does Bilbo have to be the one to destroy the Ring, though?" Wasn't it enough that Bilbo came with them on the quest, that he riddled with Smaug, on top of all the other ways that he had saved the Company? To know that he was also expected to destroy the most powerful weapon of Sauron- It didn't feel fair. 

"Hobbits are more resilient to its powers, apparently," Mahal replied, shrugging. "We're not sure why. Maybe Sauron just didn't think to consider them as a threat. If it's not Bilbo, though, it will be his nephew, which will cause Bilbo great pain when the time comes." Thorin sighed and peeked at Mahal through his fingers. The Vala was watching him with understanding, but Thorin thought he could see a little amusement in the corners of his eyes. "At least this way, if things go my way, you'll be there to protect Bilbo."

Thorin sighed again. As though he was even still deliberating. There was no point putting it off; he had made up his mind nearly as soon as the choice was given. "When will I be sent back to, then?"

A silence stretched between them, one that it took Thorin a few seconds to notice as he was currently rubbing his hands over his face, as though trying to wake up again. In a way, he was. He was trying to get ready, to do battle once more, and then likely continue to do battle until he helped Bilbo destroy the Ring. When he noticed that Mahal hadn't answered, that he felt his Maker's eyes on him, he raised his head. Only then did Mahal speak. "You're sure? Your family is waiting for you here." 

Mahal pointed at the door he had come in, and Thorin resolutely kept his gaze trained on the other dwarf. If he gave in, if he considered staying, it would be difficult to resist. He missed his family more than anything, and he knew that staying would mean getting to see his parents, his brother, even his nephews, in peace until the world was remade. He couldn't let himself entertain the thought. "I'm sure. Where- Or, I suppose, when will you send me?"

Another pause, and he felt as though Mahal was trying to read his very soul. He felt exposed, naked before the judgement of his creator, and part of him wanted to hide away. Thorin forced his spine to straighten, and was rewarded by Mahal smirking and rising to his feet. "Both questions are fair. You'll be going back to the Shire. There's a few things you can do differently starting that far back, including making a better impression on your burglar." 

Thorin had gotten to his feet at the same time as Mahal, but the words made him pause, a flush crawling across his cheeks. Often, after getting to know Bilbo and actually giving him a chance, he had regretted his harsh words and actions during the first half of their quest. He coughed awkwardly, his feet shuffling. "You know about that?"

"Oh, aye. My wife was quite insulted on Bilbo's behalf. 'A grocer.' Honestly." Thorin, in all the time he had spent wondering what meeting Mahal would be like, would never have expected the constant switching between pride and exasperation that the Vala was showing. It was familial, familiar in a way that put Thorin at ease and made him feel awkward at the same time. 

"I'll do better. I know better now." That was apparently the right thing to say, as Mahal nodded and led him to the wall at the opposite end of the Healer's Hall, almost directly across from where Mahal had entered. 

"I know you will, lad. I believe in you." The pat to his shoulder caused that warm feeling to surge forward once more, at the same time as almost knocking Thorin off his feet. Mahal turned to the wall and waved his arm at it, a doorway forming out of the smooth, green marble. 

It only took a moment for it to form fully, and then Thorin was confronted with going back, doing it all over again, as soon as he opened the door. "Anything else I should do? Or any guidance you can offer?"

Mahal grinned, as though he was supremely pleased that Thorin had thought to ask. After a few seconds, he nodded. "You have to go through Goblintown so Bilbo gets the Ring." Thorin sighed, but nodded. There was no other way; at least, not without slowing them down considerably. "Other than that… You should talk to Olorin, though. I know you don't trust him, but having him know will provide you far more guidance than I could." Thorin's confusion must have shown. He was positive he didn't know anyone by that name. "Gandalf, I mean." 

"How many names does he even have?"

Mahal shook his head. "Even I don't know that. Ready?"

Thorin swallowed, and met his maker's gaze. Mahal's warmth had been a constant, and meeting those amber eyes once more filled him with it. His racing heart slowed, and gradually, he felt his muscles relax. "Aye," he breathed. Mahal waved his hand and the door opened, revealing a blinding light beyond. 

A hand came down on his shoulder again, clenching it tightly and sending comfort down Thorin's arm. "Good luck, my son." With one last squeeze, he was urged forward - very nearly pushed - through the door.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so now we actually start the quest! I'm going to do my best to update every Sunday, but we'll see! I hope you enjoy all the Thorin and Bilbo interaction in this chapter! We'll meet the others next time :)

He had thought that he would just walk through the doorway and end up in the Shire, ready to go. Apparently, traveling back in time didn't work like that. He woke in a bed that was too small for him, and a look out the window only told him he was in the Shire. Somewhere. Thorin sighed and sat back on the bed, trying to remember what had happened all those months ago. If this was the day they met with Bilbo - it had to be, he hadn't been in the Shire longer than a day the first time - then he had to be in- Something Delving. He was sure that there was more to the name that he should remember, but he hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings the first time around. He had been too lost in his thoughts about the meeting he had come from in Ered Luin. That was part of the reason he had gotten lost on the way to Bag End, combined with his horrible sense of direction above ground. 

It seemed as though the sun had been up for a few hours, and it had taken a fair amount of time to get to Hobbiton last time, with how much he had gotten lost. He hoped that he wouldn't repeat that and he would be able to talk to Bilbo before the others arrived, to give him some notice. Quickly, he packed up his things and went downstairs to get directions. He had been too proud last time to ask, and while it was still frustrating to have the hobbits look at him like he was going to rob them blind, he could swallow it down. He could be better this time.

After he was supplied with directions and a breakfast to eat while he walked - though the hobbit he had spoken with seemed shocked that he would do such a thing - he left the inn and started on the road. While he walked, he tried to remember the early part of their adventure, and think about what he could change. The main thing this early would be changing his behavior towards Bilbo, to make sure he felt more accepted by the others - and if it meant that it endeared him towards Thorin earlier, even better. 

Despite his preoccupation with remembering and planning, he was able to keep an eye on where he was going and reached Hobbiton in good time. It was quiet in the village, and Thorin could only assume that it was around one of the meal times. As soon as he got to the bridge that he was told to look out for, he looked up at the hill rising in front of him. For a moment, all he could do was stare, his jaw hanging down. It was right there. He could see Bag End, with the mark on the door and everything, from where he stood. Not for the first time, he cursed his awful sense of direction, and was amazed that he had managed to miss something directly in front of him. Granted, it was easier to see in the daylight, but he still felt foolish.

With a sigh, he quickly made his way to the round, green door. He had thought about what he might say when he saw Bilbo again - a Bilbo that had no idea who he was or what they had been through - and hadn’t been able to land on anything that seemed good enough. Thorin worried at his bottom lip for a few seconds, but he knew that eventually someone would come up the lane and worry about the odd dwarf in front of Bag End, and so he forced himself to knock. 

Bilbo was dressed smartly, in brown trousers that hobbits seem to favor and a yellow waistcoat. That was the first thing he noticed, followed by the confused and shocked expression on the hobbit’s face. “May I help you?” It occurred to Thorin that he had rarely seen Bilbo so clean and put together, and he had to fight to control his grin at the thought. He almost looked odd and ethereal when he wasn’t covered in grime, almost untouchable.

“Gandalf sent me,” he started, and watched in amazement as Bilbo’s face quickly shut down and became a polite but disinterested veneer. That was interesting, considering how close the two became. He had known that Gandalf had sprung the Company on Bilbo, but for the hobbit to react like that was surprising.

“Whatever he told you, I’m not interested-“

“I know.” Bilbo blinked in surprise, losing much of the steam that he had been filled with. “I know he didn’t tell you anything about us coming or the adventure he signed you up for. To be honest, he also told us that you were ready and willing to come along. We've both been played, I'm afraid.” Thorin ended up being far more truthful than he thought he would be, but confronted with Bilbo in front of him, he found he couldn’t spin some web of lies. Not to Bilbo. He would just have to be careful and keep as close to the truth as possible. 

“Then- Right.” Bilbo let out a hum, seemingly trying to process his thoughts while maintaining his righteous anger. After a moment, he seemed to have made a decision and nodded to himself. “You should come in then, so we can get this settled.” 

Thorin blinked in surprise as Bilbo stood back, opening the door wider for the dwarf to come inside. He did so after a few seconds, ducking his head to avoid hitting the round entryway. "Thank you." After removing his cloak, which Bilbo promptly hung up on a peg, Thorin bowed. "Thorin Oakenshield, at your service." 

It was Bilbo's turn to blink in surprise, and he was reminded that Thorin and his company were the first dwarrow that Bilbo had actually interacted with. It just made it more amazing how quickly Bilbo had seemed to adjust to being with them, and the effort that must have gone into it. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours," the hobbit replied, offering his own bow. "If you'll remove your boots, we can talk in the kitchen. You're just in time for luncheon." 

"I'm sorry about this," Thorin murmured as he bent over to remove his boots. A hobbit's meal times were very important, after all, and he assumed he had arrived just as Bilbo was about to start eating, much as Dwalin had the first time. 

"You're hardly to blame from the sound of it." He stood to see Bilbo smoothing the front of his waistcoat, a nervous habit that Thorin remembered fondly. "Are you hungry? I've made extra anyway." Bilbo led the way to the kitchen, and Thorin had been about to decline as he felt badly about taking even more food from the hobbit, but his stomach betrayed him by gurgling loudly. Loudly enough for Bilbo to pause and shoot him an amused smirk over his shoulder. "That answers that then." 

Thorin studiously ignored the flush that appeared on his cheeks. "Thank you." Bilbo nodded and pointed him towards a chair. Thorin wanted to help in some way, or break the silence that descended over them as Bilbo bustled around, preparing a second plate for Thorin. However, Bilbo was a quick and efficient host, and soon enough there was a plate of lamb chops with potatoes and carrots in front of him. 

"Now. You said that Gandalf told you I had already agreed to go on your adventure?"

Thorin nodded and swallowed the bite of his food. "He told us days ago."

"That's not possible. He was just here this morning." 

Of course he was. Thorin shook his head, softly sighing to himself. Curse that wizard. With everything going on the first time, he hadn't pried more into the timeline that led to Bilbo joining their Company, but the fact remained that Gandalf had sent them a letter days ago saying he had found their burglar in the Shire. Apparently, the wizard was very sure of himself. Thorin said as much to Bilbo, earning him a snort of derision before they both busied themselves with eating for the next few moments. 

Thorin looked up once the sounds of Bilbo's eating stopped, only to find the hobbit watching him curiously. He feared, for a moment, that there was something on his face, before he realized that he recognized the expression on Bilbo's face. It was one he wore often when he wanted to ask a question, but wasn't sure of how or if he should. Thorin took another bite, waiting patiently. 

"What- I mean. Gandalf said he thought an adventure would be good for me, but he didn't say anything more than that." Thorin took another bite to keep himself from smiling to himself. Bilbo always had been rather curious, often too curious for his own good, and the dwarf wasn't surprised that he couldn't stop himself from asking.

Before he started speaking, Thorin gave himself a moment to appreciate how differently this was going, how well Bilbo took his unexpected presence, and he let himself hope that somehow, this would work in his favor. "Have you heard of Erebor, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo tilted his head as he thought, a rather adorable quirk of his in Thorin's opinion, before he shook it a moment later. "It is a single mountain, out East. My people lived a long and prosperous life there until the King became… sick." Thorin sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, and for the first time that day, he found it difficult to look at Bilbo, his gaze trained on the small, circular window instead. "He started spending more and more time in the treasury, looking over the gold and wealth. He was ever focused on attaining more - not for the well-being of his people, but because he needed it. He was insatiable and could think of nothing else." 

He glanced over at Bilbo, long enough to note the confused but captivated look in his eye before his gaze returned to the window. It was difficult to think of his grandfather and the sickness - he knew all too well what it felt like now. It felt like he was drowning, and the gold was the only thing that would save him, and would give him what he needed. "We call it Dragon Sickness," Thorin continued, his voice coming out more in a rasp as he tried to push away the memories of when he had been lost in the all consuming gold, of what he had done to those he loved, including the one in front of him. "For good reason, as soon, because of my grandfather's sickness, it attracted the attention of a Dragon. Smaug - he laid waste to the mountain, killing any who tried to defend their home. The amount of dwarrow that escaped was… far too few."

Thorin's gaze was drawn to Bilbo once more, and he was both surprised and not to see that Bilbo looked sad. His hobbit had always been rather sympathetic to the fate of the dwarrow of Erebor, but Thorin had always assumed it was because he personally knew a few of those affected. Apparently, that wasn't necessarily the case. 

After a moment, Bilbo looked up and met Thorin's gaze. He wasn't sure what he was expecting the hobbit to say, but "Your grandfather?" wasn't it. 

Thorin blinked, and felt a small, sheepish smile pull at his lips as he realized his slip up. "Yes. King Thror was my grandfather." Bilbo looked poleaxed, and Thorin pushed forward with a soft cough. Bilbo had never cared about his royal status before, but he did remember the hobbit being just as surprised last time when he found out. "The 'adventure,' as you put it, is to reclaim Erebor and rebuild it, make it mighty again."

Bilbo nodded and raised a finger in the air, which caused Thorin to raise his eyebrow with an amused smile. "A couple of questions. Who is ‘we?’ You've said that a few times. Also- Um, how are you planning on reclaiming it? Is there- I mean. Is the dragon still there?"

Thorin nodded, glad that they had gotten around to the discussion of the Company. After all, Thorin was hoping that Bilbo would agree to provide them dinner and board as Thorin continued trying to sway him to join with them. It would be easier, if Bilbo knew what he was getting himself into - at least, Thorin was hoping that would be the case. "I have put together a company to march on the mountain with me. We number thirteen - Gandalf also neglected to mention that they are on their way to your home, I imagine. We were told there would be dinner with lodging for the night."

Bilbo's eyes widening was confirmation that he didn't need, and Thorin made sure to turn his amused smirk into something a bit more sheepish. "Do you know when?" Bilbo asked, half rising from his chair. 

"After nightfall," Thorin replied with a shrug. 

"Right. Well, that gives us some time to prepare, but you're going to need to help me. Come on, your majesty." Thorin grinned, a laugh bubbling up from his mouth, as Bilbo showed deference to his title while also ordering him around. Only his hobbit would do such a thing. "You can continue telling me about how you plan on taking back your mountain and how I come into this as we cook." 

Thorin nodded, taking a final bite of his food before he rose and removed his layers until he was only in his comfortable tunic and trousers. "You have no issue with cooking for so many?"

"Not really. Granted, I would have liked a little more warning, but it's hardly the fault of yours and your company that Gandalf didn't think to give advance notice."

"I wonder if you would have been so accepting, even if he had." Thorin followed Bilbo into the kitchen proper, and was gratified at the way that Bilbo seemed to pause before answering. The hobbit's eyes were traveling aimlessly over Thorin's torso, almost too quick for Thorin to track them. At least that was one thing he didn't have to worry about this time either - as a flush appeared on Bilbo's cheek before he pulled away, it was evident that even with what Thorin had changed so far by showing up early, Bilbo still found him attractive. 

The next few moments were filled with Bilbo sending Thorin into the pantries - how had they missed that there was another pantry further back, last time? - for ingredients as he started cooking. By the time that Thorin was instructed to start cutting vegetables, nearly every surface in the kitchen was covered with ingredients. 

"So, how are you planning on taking the mountain back with thirteen… dwarrow?" 

Thorin looked over at Bilbo and nodded at the proper verbiage, and then watched as Bilbo continued testing the word out, nearly silent, until he seemed satisfied that it was committed to memory. "There's a gem. The Arkenstone." Thorin sighed - even on his long walk to Hobbiton, he hadn't been able to think of a way to avoid needing the Arkenstone. Even if what he changed meant that Smaug was defeated in another way, the Arkenstone would still be needed in order to gain the support of the other dwarf lords and take his place on the throne. The only solution he could come up with was to lock the gem away as soon as it had served its purpose, along with as much gold as he could get away with shutting away. "It's called the heart of the mountain, and it would show the other dwarf lords that I am the rightful heir to Erebor, and they would pledge their allegiance to me, which includes coming to our aid with Smaug." 

Bilbo hummed, his eyes trained on the liquid he was stirring. "This whole thing sounds rather complicated," he said eventually, glancing up at Thorin. "Stones and allegiances and dragons. All that business. I would think it would make more sense if they just agreed that a dragon around was dangerous for all and banded together." The dwarf could see a hint of shame in those hazel eyes, and he knew that Bilbo hated admitting that he wasn't able to understand something. Bilbo was used to being the smartest and most clever being in the room; though, from what Thorin had seen, that wasn't a difficult reputation to maintain when surrounded by only hobbits. 

"It would be," Thorin admitted. "That, unfortunately, also means putting their people at risk of the dragon for a kingdom that isn’t theirs. I am upset that they will not aid me, but I can understand it." Bilbo hummed in response again, still considering it.

Before Thorin could offer more, or Bilbo could say anything further, a loud, sharp knocking interrupted them. Bilbo looked over at him, panicked and slightly accusing. "That can't be mine," Thorin said quickly. "I swear, they're not to be here before nightfall." Though, what if his arriving so early had changed that somehow?

Bilbo made his way to the door, Thorin following until the entrance of the sitting room. He was almost positive it wouldn't be one of his dwarrow, and so he had no strong desire to be seen by whoever was on the other side. Still, from where he was, he could see Bilbo fairly well, and as the hobbit opened the door, he could see a flash of the garden and whoever was on the other side. 

"Lobelia," Bilbo greeted. His hobbit's voice was weary, and Thorin could see how he shifted the door, closing it just slightly, as though preparing to slam the door in the hobbitess's face. It only took a few seconds for Thorin to remember what Bilbo had told him about this hobbit last time. On one memorable occasion, Bilbo had even gone so far as to compare the hobbitess to a very lame dragon, something that made most of the dwarrow howl with laughter. 

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Thorin winced - Lobelia's voice was shrill, and somehow simpering at the same time. Truly, it was grating, and even if Thorin had no reason to dislike her before, he would have disliked her for just her voice. 

"I'm quite busy, actually, so if you don't mind-"

"With your dwarf, I imagine," Lobelia cut off, giving a little sniff as she referred to Thorin. "Honestly, Bilbo, what were you thinking inviting one of those into your home?"

Bilbo sighed, and Thorin could see him shaking his head, a little peak of a sardonic smile pulling at his lips. "Once again, Lobelia, you show that you are truly the worst sort of hobbit." Thorin heard a strangled gasp from Lobelia, and it made him smirk to himself. He had been tempted to step into the hall as soon as she insinuated that a dwarf was no better than a worm, but Bilbo's words had made him stay. He always did enjoy seeing Bilbo tear into other people, his words as sharp as a sword. "He is a dwarf, and my guest, and has shown to be far more polite and helpful than certain others I could name. So, no, I will not be inviting you in. I will continue about my business, giving you no more thought than I would to a rather annoying fly, as I prepare for a party with a guest I am positive will not try to make off with my silverware. Good day." 

Bilbo didn't quite slam the door, but it was close enough that Thorin had difficulty controlling his laughter. A grin was pulling at his lips as Bilbo joined him, and he took in the sight of the flushed cheeks, more from anger this time. "Thank you, Master Baggins. I appreciate everything you said. Though, it seemed to be more from dislike of this Lobelia than at the defense of dwarrow."

"A bit of both, to be honest," Bilbo huffed, gesturing for Thorin to follow him back to the kitchen. They resumed their respective duties in companionable silence, and Thorin felt a sense of peace wash over him that he hadn't experienced in quite a long time. Being with Bilbo, doing something so domestic - it felt as though they had been doing so forever, even though they had only known each other for a couple hours, as far as the hobbit was concerned. 

"What were you referring to, about silverware?" Thorin asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bilbo jerk, as though pulled from his thoughts rather abruptly. Bilbo smirked and then started explaining about the numerous times he had caught Lobelia trying to make off with his mother's silverware. 

"There was even one time, after a Yule dinner. My cousin Primula had even seen her try to sneak a couple forks into her dress pocket and confronted her about it in front of everyone. Her husband, my cousin Otho, was conveniently out of the room, and it turned into a bit of a game of everyone blocking the exits so she couldn’t run out. After a couple hours - where Otho still hadn't come back, mind! I think he was hiding by the front door - she finally reached into her pocket and had the gall to act surprised to find the forks there. She then accused us of planting them on her at some point." 

Thorin snorted, shaking his head. "That's very disgraceful behavior. Dwarrow love precious metals as much as anyone, or anything of fine craftsmanship, but they would never stoop so far as actual stealing, especially not from kin."

A silence fell over them once more. It seemed as though he had made an even bigger error than he had realized last time, by being so rude to Bilbo. The hobbit had accepted him quickly this time around, and promptly adjusted his day to cater to the Company, despite not knowing them and not truly understanding the gravity of the situation. Thorin shook his head slightly as he worked. Apparently, even with knowing what was to come, and knowing far more about Bilbo than the hobbit did with him, Thorin could still be surprised. 

"How do you know I'm who you need on this adventure?" Bilbo asked suddenly, his voice soft. Thorin glanced over at him as he poured the potatoes he had been chopping into a bowl. 

"Gandalf believes we need a hobbit," he started. He hadn't seen the sense in it before - he had Nori to serve as burglar, but there had been wisdom in Gandalf's actions, even if he hadn't seen it before. "Hobbits are apparently quick and quiet on their feet, and can pass by unnoticed if they wish." Bilbo nodded as he continued chopping vegetables. "And Smaug has never smelled a hobbit before. You would have far better luck than any of us." 

Thorin picked up his discarded knife, and Bilbo quickly passed him a few carrots. "Why me, though? Hobbits, as a rule, don't leave the Shire, yet both you and Gandalf seem certain that you need me."

"I do." His voice was soft, and he concentrated on the carrots in front of him, even though he saw Bilbo's head whip up and look at him in surprise. "Master Baggins, I need people I can trust on this quest."

"You've only known me for a few hours," Bilbo pointed out. Thorin glanced over at him; the hobbit's hand had stilled and he was watching Thorin intently, a confused furrow to his brow. 

He swallowed and nodded. He hated the idea of lying to Bilbo, his One, but he knew that his tale would never be believed - not now, at least. "And yet, you have already shown yourself to have a kind heart with a spine of Mithril underneath," he replied, shooting a small smile at Bilbo. If anything, his response seemed to have confused his hobbit further, and he let out a soft huff of laughter before he continued. "Master Baggins, we dwarrow have had a hard… existence." Aye, since their creation as the second born, dwarrow had been painted as the villains often in the old tales, and their rich history of valor was not spoken of outside of dwarven halls. "And yet, after a twenty minute conversation, you agreed to cook for a whole company and offered us space in your halls, instead of showing us to an inn."

Bilbo was fidgeting. Thorin knew that this happened whenever he was trying to buy time, to come up with a clever response that hid how awkward he felt in the moment, and so Thorin continued, cutting off any protestation he was trying to come up with. "As for being certain of your courage, or at least determination, I did just get a demonstration of you going against a dragon of your own," he explained, idly waving his knife towards the front door before bringing it back to the vegetables. 

"Bit of a different scale, I think," Bilbo murmured. "Lobelia doesn't breathe fire."

"I get the sense she would if she could figure it out," Thorin replied, and Bilbo seemed to grin in response despite himself. He let himself enjoy that smile on his hobbit's face for a few seconds before he continued, his voice soft and tender. "I am not asking you to decide now. You have agreed to feed and house us, and that is more than we have been given in a long time. Thank you, Master Baggins." 

"I'm just doing what any respectable hobbit would. Though, I do appreciate you giving me a warning. Apparently Gandalf didn't deem that necessary to let me know I would be having a party tonight."

Something that still aggravated Thorin to think about. Gandalf seemed to know a great deal about hobbits, and yet had thought it was a good idea to tell them all to go to Bag End without telling Bilbo, and expected him to be fine with it? It had worked out in the end, but it was a large gamble - one that Thorin couldn't afford. "I'm happy to help you however I can." 

"Thank you, Master Thorin." The next hour was passed almost silently. Thorin suspected that Bilbo was processing everything he had been told about Erebor, which suited him fine. He and Bilbo had always been able to do companionable silence well, once Thorin had taken the time to actually get to know him. 

Once Bilbo had moved on to desserts - with only a few protestations from Thorin; it was hardly necessary, but Mahal knew Thorin wanted to try it - Thorin was all but shooed away from the kitchen. He wandered the halls of Bag End a bit, with Bilbo's permission, exploring and getting to know Bilbo in a way that he hadn't before. Aye, his hobbit was fussy and particular, and had an odd penchant for crochet, but a glance at the bookshelves showed him a fair amount more about the hobbit he knew that Bilbo became while on the quest. The books were full of histories of heroic deeds, of quests and faraway places. These books outnumbered any others, though there were a fair amount of volumes of poetry and practical uses for plants. Thorin could tell they were well-read too; the sense of longing to explore practically jumped out at him. 

"It seems we share a taste in books, Master Baggins," he announced as he came back to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and watched as Bilbo rolled out pie dough. There was a bowl of blackberries at his elbow, and Thorin kept an eye on the hobbit as he sneaked a couple from the bowl. 

"Found my collection? I do enjoy reading, particularly exciting things like adventures and such. Mind, I never thought I would be invited to go on one. They always seem to work out in the end, but I get the sense that that's not exactly guaranteed." Thorin had taken a couple steps away from Bilbo before popping the berries into his mouth, and he smirked to himself. "Also, don't think I didn't see that, Master Oakenshield." The disapproving tone in the hobbit's voice made him pause, and he glanced back over his shoulder to see Bilbo looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "I think I know why you would not be the burglar. You're hardly subtle." 

Thorin snorted and swallowed the berries before he let his smile grow. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"I made too much filling." Bilbo shrugged and turned back to the pie, but not before Thorin saw the cheeky smile on his face. The next hour was filled with both of them working around the other. Bilbo continued baking and putting finishing touches on the rest of the food while Thorin set about putting the extra leaves in the table, causing it to stretch out into the next hall and setting the table.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the company arrives, and Bilbo has to make a decision!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said in the last chapter that I would try to post every Sunday, but here I am, posting early. I figured that was better than late, and I couldn't wait any longer to really get this party started. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Some dialogue taken from An Unexpected Journey directed by Peter Jackson

Once the table and counters were covered with food, and places were set for his coming guests, Bilbo nodded to himself, and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. "Well, I hope they get here soon, before it all gets too co-" A ringing at the door interrupted Bilbo. 

Thorin glanced over at him. "Would you like me to get it? I think it's my cousin." 

Bilbo sniffed and left the towel on the counter. His hands smoothed down his waistcoat. "No, thank you. You are my guest, after all. It's bad enough that I put you to work, I won't make you host your own family." 

Thorin let out a soft huff of laughter, but gestured for Bilbo to go on ahead. It occurred to him, belatedly, that he maybe should have given a warning of what to expect from the other dwarrow-- Dwalin in particular. It was too late now, though. 

"Dwalin, at your service." 

Thorin stepped into the hall behind Bilbo just in time to hear a soft squeak of surprise come from the hobbit. Dwalin was rising from his bow, and he could tell by the line of Bilbo's shoulders that he was resisting the urge to fidget when confronted with the larger dwarf. Still, Bilbo bowed back, like he had with Thorin. "Bilbo, at yours. Please come in."

Dwalin looked over the hobbit curiously, but his gaze quickly found Thorin. A grin pulled at his lips, which did nothing to make him look less terrifying. "I was wondering if I would bump into you on the road. How long have you been here?"

Thorin held up a hand, and he couldn't stop his smile from growing as Dwalin came to a halt a few steps into the smial. "Boots." Bilbo shot him a grateful smile as Dwalin looked at Thorin's feet to see if he was bootless as well. The larger dwarf only let out a huff before removing his cloak, axes, and boots.

"Thank you, Master Dwalin. The kitchen is right through the parlour. Help yourself while we wait for the others." Dwalin grunted in reply to Bilbo's words, which caused the hobbit to frown slightly before looking over at Thorin. 

He waited until Dwalin had passed into the other room before closing some of the distance between him and Bilbo. "That grunt was a thank you, just so you're aware. Dwalin is one of few words." 

"Are the rest of the company so, uh, tall?" Bilbo's eyes were trained on the ceiling of his hobbit hole, as though concerned that so many tall beings would cause damage to the trim, and Thorin couldn't help but chuckle. 

"No, Dwalin is the tallest, followed by myself. Your hole will be perfectly safe." His teasing words made Bilbo sniff haughtily, but luckily he didn't seem to catch the innuendo that Thorin had accidentally slipped in. He shook his head, as though to prevent his mind from going down that dangerous path, which only caused Bilbo to look up at him curiously once more. "Ah, will you be alright greeting the others? I haven't seen Dwalin in some time."

"Oh, of course! Go, go. I daresay I've had you to myself long enough," Bilbo said kindly, making a shooing motion before he turned to straighten up the entryway, seemingly to make more room for everyone else's things. He had to disagree with Bilbo's assessment; at least, he hadn't had Bilbo to himself nearly as long as he would like, but there was very little he could do about that. 

Thorin nodded at Bilbo, and then went to join Dwalin in the kitchen. "The halfing is a good cook," his cousin commented before showing a roll into his mouth. 

"Hobbit." The correction came automatically, along with the memory of Bilbo losing his temper with them in the Trollshaws, after weeks of them referring to him as such. _I am half of nothing, thank you! It's Hobbit, if you must refer to me by my race._ The memory brought a small smile to his face as he filled a plate for himself. It was the first time he had seen a hint of the hobbit's spirit, the first time he had thought that Master Baggins might actually be able to care for himself, that he wouldn't be a burden. It had taken him far too long after that to truly believe it, but he could look back on it fondly as the first time he thought he truly saw Bilbo.

Thorin looked up from his plate to see Dwalin watching him curiously as he chewed. "Just how long have you been here?"

"Since lunch." He kept his gaze from lingering too long on anything in particular. Dwalin, as well as Balin, knew how to read him too well, and he had a feeling that Dwalin was already putting pieces together. "He had no idea we were coming," Thorin added quickly, hoping to distract his friend. "Gandalf has played us all."

Despite Mahal's urging that he confide in Gandalf - Tharkun, Olorin, whatever his name was - he found it difficult to get over his anger at the wizard. They were expected to trust him despite not knowing his motives - though Thorin had a better idea now - and despite his constant disappearances. The fact that he had lied to every member of the Company was just another thorn in his side, and one that he struggled to get past. 

"Good thing you were here to clear that up then," Dwalin replied, cutting off Thorin's growing frustration at the wizard. A glance over at the larger dwarf showed that Dwalin was smirking knowingly, and Thorin rolled his eyes. Well, he would be putting up with some teasing from now on, then. 

"You realize you're not as smart as you think you are." 

"I'm smart enough to know that you're interested in a _Hobbit_ you've just met. Your eyes linger." 

It was Thorin's turn to grunt, shoving a piece of cottage pie into his mouth as Dwalin laughed at him. He hated that he was so obvious, and he just hoped that no one else would pick up on it. It had taken Dwalin just about as long last time to pick up on Thorin’s interests, though at that time Thorin had raged and denied it for weeks before realizing it for himself.

There was another ringing, and a moment later, Balin came in, sans boots, with Bilbo trailing behind him. "I didn't see anyone else coming up the lane," the hobbit explained, grabbing a roll for himself to munch on. 

"Thorin! Brother!" Balin closed the distance between them, and bashed his head to Thorin's. It did nothing to him but serve as a love tap, though he looked over at Bilbo as Balin greeted his brother in the same way. The hobbit was watching the brothers, his eyes wide and rubbing his forehead in sympathy, which caused Thorin to cover his mouth in a hope of stifling his grin.

The bell rang again, and Thorin was moving before he truly knew it. If he remembered correctly, his nephews were after Balin. The story of the unexpected party had been told many times on their quest, particularly after they realized that Bilbo had had no idea to expect the dwarrow, and the repeated telling had made it clear what order they had all arrived in. 

"Fili-"

"And Kili."

"At your service." His boys finished together, offering Bilbo a respectful bow that was undercut with the gleam of mischief in their eyes. He remembered them coming up with the idea of synchronized greetings and how long it had taken them to get the rhythm down. Now, they did it as easy as breathing, and Thorin felt his chest tighten as he looked at them. Just as with Bilbo, he couldn't look at them without remembering how everything had gone wrong towards the end, how he had cost them their lives as well with his shortcomings. 

Bilbo’s greeting and demanding of them to take off their boots stopped Thorin from dwelling on his mistakes. There was a cocksure smirk on Fili's face as he looked at the hobbit, and that gleam of mischief was even more evident in Kili's. Before they could do whatever they were planning, Thorin gave a soft cough. He watched with some satisfaction as their eyes widened. "Uncle," Fili made to come towards him, but stopped short as Thorin glanced pointedly at his feet. 

After a huff and an eye roll from each of them, they bent and quickly removed their boots and coats before they closed the distance and Thorin wrapped them up in a hug. It may have been tighter than it had been at any time in their lives, but they hardly argued about it. He could see Bilbo watching them over Kili's shoulder, his gaze curious and soft. 

He let the boys bring him back to the table as the door rang again, and after a few moments, the table was finally full of his Company. Gandalf sat beside him, though Thorin had yet to do more than nod in greeting. He had much to discuss with the wizard, but it would wait until they could be alone. For now, he let himself get lost in the merry conversation of his Company. The jovial conversation was something he didn't realize he had missed. He had gotten used to the constant chatter on the road. Once he fell to the gold, the lighthearted conversations seemed to stop entirely.

It was comforting to be surrounded by conversation. Even Bilbo was doing so, carrying a soft conversation with Dori - something Thorin didn't remember from last time. Though, last time, he also wasn't here for the actual dinner. It had been cleared away by the time he had arrived, and he had to make due with scraps.

This time, though, the dwarrow all rose, as though from some silent agreement, and began clearing the table, despite Bilbo's protests. Thorin came up behind the hobbit, while Bilbo was trying to take a plate from Oin, and put a hand on his shoulder. It was enough to surprise Bilbo into stopping his polite reclaiming of his dishware, and Oin made off with the plate quickly. "Please, Master Baggins. Let us help. It's the least we can do," Thorin murmured. Bilbo opened his mouth, surely to begin arguing about propriety and host duties, and Thorin swiftly cut him off. "I promise no harm will come to your crockery."

"I- I wasn't actually concerned about that," Bilbo replied, his brow furrowing. "It's not proper though, guests cleaning."

"And who do you think will find out? You think my dwarrow will run off and complain to the nearest hobbit that the Master of Bag End dared to let them clean up after said Master spent hours preparing a meal for them?"

Bilbo leveled an unimpressed glare at him and it only made Thorin smile widely. Even if Bilbo hadn't committed to the quest, he felt a friendship growing between them. "Your sarcasm is noted and unappreciated, Master Oakenshield," Bilbo replied drily. He crossed his arms over his chest, but stepped to the side so the dwarrow could move around him and clean. 

Easily, a rhythm started, first by those washing the dishes and then the light steps and movement of his nephews. Those at the table joined in, drumming along with the subtle rhythm with hands holding silverware, and Thorin let out a soft laugh as Bilbo, predictably, called out. "Careful! You'll blunt them."

"Ah, Master Baggins," Thorin replied softly, shaking his head. "You might regret that."

"Why would I-?"

"You hear that, lads? We'll blunt the knives," Bofur teased.

Dwarrow had always been rather gifted with music and had been blessed with the ability to quickly develop working songs. One started now, set to a familiar tune that was often used in the mines - unsurprising, since Bofur started it - and Kili started lyrics about what else Bilbo Baggins hates that the rest picked up on. By the time the song was finished, Bilbo was looking over all the dwarrow with confused amazement, but he had yet to leave Thorin's side. 

After a moment, Bilbo pushed off from the wall only to stop short once he was able to see the counter full of clean plates and silverware. "That song- They're going to sing it at every opportunity, aren't they?" Bilbo murmured, looking at Thorin over his shoulder. He couldn't see the rest of the dwarrow's expressions, which were all various sizes of the same joyful, mischievous grins, but Thorin could. 

"I told you you would regret saying that," Thorin pointed out, nodding solemnly while trying to control his own smirk. He didn't comment on the fact that it wouldn’t bother Bilbo if he had no intention of joining them; he didn't want to draw attention to that. Not yet. 

After a moment, he looked away, only to meet the gaze of the sons of Fundin, both of whom were looking at him with a stunned expression. Thorin let out a soft cough and gestured for everyone to take their seats once more. "We should talk about the quest." 

"Oh, but you can't do that on an empty stomach," Bilbo interrupted before he shuffled off into the pantry. The dwarrow all looked between themselves, their confusion plain. Clearly, their stomachs were far from empty, after the feast they had just enjoyed. However, they all seemed to get excited once more as Bilbo came back in with a tray full of several pies and cakes. 

Everyone helped themselves as Bilbo walked around the table. Thorin was confused about that, the desserts were merely being placed in front of people and passed between all the dwarrow, so there was no reason for Bilbo to not resume his seat. Thorin watched the hobbit, about to insist that Bilbo leave off of his host duties until he saw a sizable slice of the blackberry pie on a plate, which was quickly placed in front of him with a soft smile. He was all too aware of Dwalin and Balin still watching him, but he was unable to control the flush crawling up his cheeks or the way he watched Bilbo take a seat once more, next to Bofur this time.

Balin gave a soft cough to get his attention. "What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?"

"Aye," Thorin swallowed the bite he had taken. He was not looking forward to this conversation, to seeing the faces of his company fall as they realized how alone they would be in this. "The lords from all seven kingdoms."

"What of the dwarrow from the Iron Hills?" Dwalin's expression was the most serious it had been all night, and Thorin didn't doubt that he already knew the answer. If Thorin had had the support of any of the other lords, it would have been one of the first things he said. "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin let out a soft sigh and shook his head. "They will not come. They say this quest is ours, and ours alone." Just as last time, disappointment was evident all around the table, and Bilbo was looking between all of them, confused for a few seconds before he seemed to understand. Thorin hadn't mentioned that he had tried to get support from others when they spoke before.There had been no point. Bilbo seemed to have come to that conclusion as well, for when their eyes met, the hobbit nodded at him and offered him a small smile. 

There were quiet murmurs of disappointment from all of them, and Thorin glanced over at Gandalf. Last time, the wizard had quickly made sure to fill them all with hope, but Gandalf’s eyes were on Thorin, looking at him as though he was a riddle to figure out. There was no doubt in Thorin’s mind that the wizard was starting to suspect something; while he hadn’t talked to Gandalf much, his behavior, particularly with Bilbo, was out of character for what the wizard knew of him. 

Thorin glanced around the table once more. “That’s enough,” he commanded, his voice still quiet but firm enough that the dwarrow quieted anyway. “We can still succeed. We only need to get to the mountain and get the stone. Then they will all come to our aid and they will regret that they weren’t with us from the beginning.” 

“But how? We will need to get into the mountain and the entries are sealed.” Balin looked at all of them pointedly. “There is no way into the mountain.” 

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” Gandalf spoke at last, the key to the secret door appearing in his hand from nowhere. Thorin’s eyes lingered on it, and he did his best to look surprised. This was the first moment that he was truly reliving, and he was beginning to realize that this opportunity may be harder than he had anticipated. It wouldn’t be merely a case of knowing what to avoid, what to change, but what to keep the same, as well. 

“How did you come by this?” Thorin asked, his voice soft but expectant.

“It was given to me by your father, Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now.” There was no hesitation as Gandalf handed the key of thick iron over. 

“If there is a key, there must be a door,” Fili pointed out, his voice full of awe as his eyes were glued to the key still. Thorin resisted the urge to smile. It was something that didn’t truly need to be said, but Fili and his brother looked so proud for having put that together that Thorin didn’t have the heart to mock them for it. 

“These runes,” Gandalf explained as he pointed to the runes on the side of the map. Bilbo rose and peered at the runes over his shoulder. “They speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.”

“Another way in,” Kili added, flashing a smirk over at Balin, which was met with a roll of the older dwarf’s eyes. 

“If we can find it. Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies somewhere hidden in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it.” Gandalf glanced at Thorin once more, who merely raised an eyebrow. It was tempting to cut him off, to insist that there was no need to go to Rivendell. Thorin stayed his tongue. Whether or not they would still go to the last Homely House was something he hadn’t decided, and would talk over with Gandalf later on. “There are others in Middle Earth who can.

The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe it can be done,” Gandalf finished, glancing pointedly at Bilbo. 

There was nothing that Thorin hadn’t already said earlier in their talks, but as Ori pointed out - “That’s why we need a burglar!” - he felt Bilbo tense behind him. 

“You would need someone very skilled to do what you’re speaking of,” the hobbit replied quietly. It was only then that Thorin looked over his shoulder and took in the nervous expression on Bilbo’s face. It was a shame, but not unexpected. Bilbo had settled in so well with the dwarrow so quickly that Thorin could almost pretend that things were normal, that the company had merely settled in for a meal together. Not that this was the first time they had all met. 

“And are you?” 

The conversation was quickly going the same way it had last time, and Thorin knew that he needed to act fast. Bilbo had made a good impression on the company so far, and it wouldn’t help if he were to faint as he had the first time. “Balin.” Predictably, the rest of the dwarrow quieted as Thorin turned to his advisor. “Give me the contract.” 

The sizable packet was pulled from Balin’s bag and handed over. While he did so, Gandalf spoke up. “I was trusted to find the fourteenth member of the company. I have chosen Bilbo. If I say he’s a burglar, he’s a burglar.” 

Bilbo looked as though he wanted to reply, to contradict, but Thorin tugged gently on his elbow. “Let’s have a smoke.” The hobbit glanced at everyone as though weighing his options, but nodded in agreement and led Thorin outside to a smoking bench in the garden. 

“I just ask you to consider it, Master Baggins.” Bilbo nodded, busying himself with lighting his pipe. 

“You haven’t done that all day, you know. You haven’t actually asked me to join. Just provided me with information. I’ve been trying to figure out if you’re just assuming that I’m coming or you’re actually giving me a choice.” Bilbo glanced over at him, as though he could find the answer in Thorin’s expression. 

“You do have a choice. I hope that you’ll come… Very much.” He worried that he was giving away too much, being too honest, and if maybe that would be off-putting and give Bilbo too much freedom. But it was far too late to go back to how he had been last time, and he didn’t think he could behave so horribly around Bilbo again, not knowing what he did. “I’ve told you why I believe you’re right for this.”

Bilbo nodded again, and took a puff from his pipe. “What’s the contract then?”

“More to make sure you’re compensated for the quest, than binding you to it. You’re entitled to a fourteenth share of the treasure, and it goes over possible actions that may need to be taken if there are… accidents.” 

“Like getting caught by a fire breathing dragon?” Bilbo commented wryly. Thorin let out a soft huff of laughter and nodded. “Can you promise me that I would come back?”

“No.” Thorin answered quickly and swallowed around the boulder that suddenly developed in his throat. “No one can promise something like that. I’m not denying that it will be dangerous, Master Baggins. The only guarantee I can give you is that I will do my utmost to keep you and the rest of the Company from danger.” 

“I’m still not sure I’m the right hobbit for you.” 

Bilbo’s words were soft, and Thorin had to keep himself from looking into the words too much. It sounded so similar to something that Bilbo may have confided in him last time, when they tip toed towards conversations of their possible feelings. They never got close enough to confirm, but it was a subtle agreement. That there was something between them, something that needed to wait until the quest was over and Erebor was reclaimed. Something that never, unfortunately, truly came to pass. 

“I believe you’re the only one, actually, who can help us.” 

Bilbo looked thoughtful, and that was all he could really hope for. He had made his case, and offered encouragement. He had already been so different from last time, and he hoped that would be enough. Though - No, he had one more chance. With a nod and a squeeze of Bilbo's knee that was a leftover habit, he left the contract on the bench and rose to go back inside. He realized what he had done when he was already halfway to the door, and he glanced over his shoulder, worried that he had undone all his encouragement with that casual touch. The surprised look on Bilbo's face wasn't put out or disgusted though; if anything, Thorin would say that he looked slightly amazed, and he felt his shoulders relax. 

"How about a song?" he asked the company once he returned inside. He glanced towards the window, which was thankfully open. Bilbo had made a passing comment about how much he liked Thorin's singing voice when they had been at Beorn’s and joked how it was half the reason he had decided to come. Thorin could only hope that there was some truth in it. 

Singing _O'er the Misty Mountains_ calmed him in a way that nothing else could. The feel of strong Dwarven voices settled over him like his favorite blanket and calmed his anxiety about everything he still had to do. He felt peace.

The song faded away, and Thorin felt as though he would have gotten lost looking into the flames of the fireplace if the door hadn't swung open a moment later. Thorin rose his head, meeting Bilbo's gaze; he had heard the song. The same emotion swam in those hazel eyes as when they had escaped the goblin tunnels, and Thorin felt something settle in his chest. Bilbo would come with them. 

"You don't have to sleep in here. I have some guest rooms," Bilbo offered a small smile as he spoke. "Follow me, please. Some of you will have to share." He paused, as though waiting for grumbling, but he was only met with nods and some small smiles. They followed him down one of the twisting hallways of the smial, and bit by bit, the dwarrow split off to sleep before they started their journey. 

"Master Balin," Bilbo stopped in front of a room, and both Balin and Dwalin stopped to look at him in turn. Without saying anything further, the hobbit pulled the contract out of his pocket and handed it to Balin. Thorin couldn't quite see the bottom, but he assumed - hoped with everything that he had - that it was signed. 

Balin looked it over and nodded to himself. "Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, laddie." Thorin let out a relieved sigh as Balin beamed at Bilbo. With a clap on Bilbo's shoulder, the brothers went into the room, and Bilbo was alone with Thorin. 

Bilbo smoothed down the front of his shirt before raising his head to look at Thorin. “This way, please.” Thorin, not for the first time, wished he was more familiar with Bag End as he was led down the next hallway. Everything about hobbits was confusing to him, their towns, their homes - they were all full of twisting curves that made no sense to him. It was a good thing he had no issue following Bilbo, wherever he was led. “If you need anything, I’m right here,” Bilbo said, gesturing to the room next to the one they were in front of. 

“Thank you, Master Baggins.” With a nod, Bilbo took a hesitant step back and Thorin entered the guest room. It was hard to know that Bilbo did not know him. He had thought it would be a simple thing to go back in time as long as it got him close to Bilbo once more. He had forgotten how… awkward Bilbo was at the beginning. How out of place. Though it was vastly different from last time, better in some ways, there was still work to be done before the other dwarrow truly accepted Bilbo as one of the Company. Thorin sat on the bed with a sigh, his braids swinging heavily on either side of his head. He would have to do his best to make sure that the distrust did not linger long. 

Thorin removed his layers until he was just in his trousers and tunic, his neck rolling until he felt a pop. He could hear some shuffling from next door, and he rose once more after only a moment of hesitancy. He knew that if the other dwarrow could see him, there would be a lot of questions, but he couldn’t help himself. He had always been drawn to Bilbo, even at the beginning when he felt the hobbit would be a burden. 

The door was slightly open, and he could see Bilbo standing in the middle of the room, staring at something on his bed. Thorin could take a guess at what it was, and the internal panic that Bilbo was feeling. 

Thorin knocked as gently as he could on the door, though even that movement made Bilbo jump. 

“Did you need something else, Master Thorin?”

“No, thank you. The room is fine.” He assumed; he had hardly looked at it, to be honest. “I thought I may be able to offer you some assistance with packing for the road.” Thorin took a step in and saw that an empty pack was indeed on the bed, and he offered Bilbo a smile. 

Thorin watched in fascination as Bilbo raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck, and he could practically hear him thinking through the situation. Bilbo - his Bilbo - had never wanted to seem inexperienced or a burden, even if he thought that he was exactly that. To turn Thorin’s offer down when he needed the help, however, would be rude. Thorin leaned against the wall and tried to control his smile. 

After a moment, Bilbo nodded, his hand dropping back to his side. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.” Thorin raised an eyebrow and took a step inside the room, trying to resist looking around too much. 

The next few moments passed quickly with Thorin suggesting clothing items and Bilbo crossing the room multiple times to get the appropriate number of said items. As Thorin considered what else would be needed on that front, he watched as Bilbo stiffened and reached into a different drawer, stuffing whatever he had grabbed into the middle of trousers that were in his hands.

“I know this isn’t a vacation or anything,” Bilbo started, depositing his latest pile on the bed next to the pack. Thorin’s eyes swept over the different piles, feeling as though several things were missing. Armor and weapons, to start, but he knew that Bilbo didn’t have anything like that in the smial. At least they would find Sting within the next few weeks - it was the only reason Thorin wasn’t going to avoid the trolls - but armor for Bilbo would be harder to come by. A frown pulled at his lips as he returned his attention to what Bilbo was saying. “… and well, it’s not as though we’re going to be walking throughout the night, so something to pass a small amount of time wouldn’t be inappropriate to bring, right?”

Thorin blinked. He was definitely missing something. “Sorry?”

A frown pulled at Bilbo’s lips, and he looked over Thorin before speaking slowly again. “I was wondering if it would be inappropriate to bring a book or two. For entertainment.” Between the slow speech and the look on Bilbo’s face, it would seem as though he felt like Thorin was spectacularly slow. It was a somewhat familiar expression for Bilbo, and Thorin couldn’t help but smirk to himself. 

“Not inappropriate, no. It should be limited, though. One or two, thin books, if possible.” Thorin watched as Bilbo’s eyes roamed over what they had so far and then turned on his feet and left the room. Thorin’s eyes had watched him all the while, his heart beating firmly in his chest with every passing second until his gaze landed on his burglar’s behind as Bilbo went off down the hallway. 

With Bilbo out of the room, Thorin gave himself a shake. He shouldn’t let himself think about Bilbo in that way. Not now, and maybe not ever. Who knew if the changes that Thorin made meant that Bilbo would develop feelings for him again. He had Mahal’s confirmation that they were Ones, but- Thorin couldn’t let himself hope too much. It was enough that he had this time with Bilbo, and had an opportunity to right his wrongs from last time. 

Thorin sighed and started folding the clothes to put in the pack. He had insisted that Bilbo bring layers and his more durable fabrics so that his hobbit would be a little more prepared. He grabbed a pair of trousers that were on top, hardly paying attention to it until there was a squeak from behind him. “I can do that, thank you!” 

Thorin glanced over his shoulder, his fingers brushing against the next item in the pile. As distracted as he was with Bilbo and the look of mortification that was on his face, he noted that the fabric of the item in his hands was thinner and softer than the trousers he had just folded. A glance at the item in his hand told him all he needed to know about why Bilbo looked so embarrassed, and Thorin couldn't help but shake his head. In his hands were short pants, that would likely go no further down than mid-thigh on the hobbit, and which were a thin linen that was practically sheer. "Am I not allowed to know that hobbits wear underthings?" he teased gently. Hobbits were very concerned with propriety, after all, something that Thorin found fascinating. He imagined, if he asked Bilbo, he would be told that it was highly inappropriate to see the underthings of someone who wasn’t a spouse, or even lover. It wasn't as though dwarrow were uncivilized or didn't have societal rules - despite what the other races thought about them - but dwarrow rules were more practical, in Thorin's opinion.

"You can make that assumption, but it's not something we wave about," Bilbo grumbled, hurriedly taking the cloth from Thorin, as well as the few others that had been in a pile, and stuffing them into his pack. Thorin was sure that his face showed his amusement, but he was far too distracted with how fetching Bilbo looked at the moment to control it. The flush that was on his hobbit’s cheeks seemed to make his eyes shine even brighter than usual. 

"I was hardly waving it around." Thorin's voice was soft, though still teasing, but he put another step of space between them. The last thing he wanted was to get into an argument with his One about his underwear, so he let himself get distracted with Bilbo's room. It was neat but cluttered, as with the rest of the home, but his eye was caught on the small details; the flowers that rested on a sideboard, a book of poems next to them, a few sheaths of parchment with a familiar scrawl on it. He wanted a closer look at that, in particular, but knew that his interest would be pushing his hobbit too far. They didn't know each other like that yet. He had to be patient. 

"What books did you gather?" he asked instead, as he stepped up to Bilbo's side once more. 

The flush had receded from the hobbit's cheeks, and he let out a soft sigh before picking the books up to show Thorin. "They're my mother's journals. She traveled when she was younger with Gandalf - that's how he knows me. I thought it would serve as inspiration." 

A soft smile pulled at Thorin's lips and he glanced between Bilbo and the two slim volumes. "How far did she go?"

"No further East than the Misty Mountains. She would be endlessly amused if she could see me. She had always insisted to my father that I would take more after her." 

"Is that a bad thing?" After all that he had heard of Belladonna Baggins, she sounded like a formidable hobbitess, and Bilbo certainly took after her. He had heard about the Took clan so much, he could describe their personality traits to any other dwarrow: adventurous, a little foolhardy, loyal. Just a bit of what he loved so much about his burglar. 

"Not at all. Though, it does make me lose my respectability in the Shire a bit, but-" Bilbo packed the books in his pack, leaving a little room at the top. "I suppose that's not entirely a bad thing, either." 

Thorin nodded, offering the hobbit a small smile. "You should get some sleep, Master Baggins. We'll have a big day tomorrow." 

"Will I need anything else, do you think?"

He paused, thinking of what they already had and what might be useful on the road. A smirk grew on his face, causing Bilbo to raise an eyebrow. "A few handkerchiefs might be useful," he suggested, barely keeping himself from laughing. 

It was clear that Bilbo didn't see the humor in that suggestion, but he nodded nonetheless. "I would have been miserable if I had forgotten those." The hobbit turned to another drawer, presumably to grab some handkerchiefs, and so didn't see Thorin's grin. He tried to smother it a bit by the time Bilbo came back to his side. "There's still more room." 

"That's okay. We may pick up some things on the road that you'll need the room for. Though… perhaps you should bring your own journal," he suggested. Bilbo looked up at him, confusion written on his face, and Thorin added: "To follow more in your mother's footsteps." A soft, contemplative sound came from the hobbit, and Thorin raised his hand and gently squeezed the hobbit's arm. "Think about it. But sleep, Master Baggins. We'll leave early." His voice was soft and he offered Bilbo a smile before he let his hand drop and he stepped away.

"Bilbo." Thorin stopped at the sound of the soft voice behind him and he glanced back at Bilbo. A small, wry smile was on the hobbit's face and it made Thorin's heart clench. It was an expression so familiar to him, he felt as though he was getting a peek of _his_ Bilbo. "You may call me Bilbo. You saw my underthings after all, it's only fair."

Thorin snorted, and not for the first time he marveled at the fact that Bilbo could make him smile so easily. He was sure that Balin and Dwalin had noticed how easily he had smiled tonight and he would have questions to answer, but he hadn't been able to avoid smiling all night, not when Bilbo finally loosened up. "Then you should call me Thorin." 

"But I haven't seen your underthings," Bilbo joked. He seemed to realize what he said a moment later, for his eyes widened and a deep flush crawled over his cheeks. "Uh-"

"Goodnight, Bilbo." Thorin made sure that his voice was steady - the last thing he wanted was for Bilbo to think he was laughing at him, though he couldn't quite keep his grin down as he turned away. He turned down the hallway towards the room that had been allotted to him, but he couldn't resist peering back into the room. He was half tempted to go back, to comfort Bilbo and tell him how much he loved his wit and it was nothing to be embarrassed about, but he felt that it would only make it worse. They didn't have that relationship yet. Instead, he turned away from the hobbit who was hiding a burning face in his hands and went to get a few hours of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone would like to chat, get some sneak peeks as I write ahead, or just say hi, swing by my [tumblr!](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Gandalf have a little chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little bit of a shorter chapter, but it's super important! I didn't feel like it would be beneficial to add much on to it, so I hope you'll forgive me ;)

Thorin woke early. He had always done so, ever since Erebor fell. While in exile, he had become a light sleeper, and no matter how comfortable Bilbo’s guest bed might have been, it couldn’t take that away. Maybe after everything that they had to do, Thorin could let himself fall into a deep sleep that he would actually feel rested from. He shook his head slightly before he forced himself to get up and ready for the day. That day, if it came, was a long ways away, and there was very little point in dwelling on it. 

As he stepped into the hall, he was surprised that he heard the sounds of others. He was usually the first one awake, but his arrival in the kitchen showed that both Gandalf - who he wasn’t sure actually slept - and Bilbo were already awake. Bilbo was moving around his kitchen with a natural grace that drew Thorin’s attention as he cooked breakfast large enough to feed an army. 

“Good morning, Thorin,” Bilbo greeted, glancing over his shoulder before continuing with whatever he was doing. Thorin murmured his own greeting, and didn’t miss how the wizard was looking between them, an eyebrow raised with interest. “It’ll be a little bit longer until breakfast is ready, I’m afraid. I had to see what could be made with what I had left, and then I took the rest to my gardener so nothing went bad while I was away. Maybe another half hour?”

“That’s fine. I would rather we linger a little and have a full breakfast than have the entire company complaining as soon as we start off,” he replied. Bilbo laughed quietly before returning his attention back to his kneading. 

“Bilbo, my boy. Would you mind if Thorin and I made use of your study? We should finalize our route.” Gandalf was rising and urging Thorin to follow him before Bilbo even finished waving them off. There was no doubt in Thorin’s mind that Gandalf had used the first excuse that he could think of. They hadn’t discussed a route, not really, and this little talk hadn’t happened before. No, Gandalf knew that there was something he didn’t know, and Thorin would find the wizard’s visible frustration with that more amusing if he wasn’t trying to figure out how to explain. 

Mahal had said to confide in the wizard, which he would do. But things were going to be different this time around, starting with and including Gandalf being more upfront with him. 

The door to the study was closed behind them, and Thorin immediately went to a well worn chair at the desk before looking up at Gandalf. The wizard had folded himself, somehow, into an armchair that was far too small, and yet he somehow looked comfortable. Thorin shook his head slightly, and raised an eyebrow at the wizard. “So, what are you thinking?”

“That you are full of surprises, Master Oakenshield.” Apparently, Gandalf saw no point in maintaining his ruse. “I admit, I don’t know you as well as I should like, but I did not expect you to take to Bilbo so quickly. It is my experience that the dwarrow of Erebor are more distrusting to outsiders.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Thorin conceded with a small nod. “Bilbo isn’t an outsider, though. He’s one of us, which he will realize, eventually.”

Gandalf’s eyes swept over him, and Thorin watched with a small amount of confusion as his gaze seemed to linger on his shoulder. The same one that Mahal had clasped tightly before pushing him through a door to the past. “What has happened, Thorin?” Gandalf’s voice was soft, and the dwarf could practically see him trying to figure out the situation. “It seems as though you have a Vala’s blessing,” he added after a long moment. 

Thorin leaned back in the chair, settling in for what he was sure was going to be a long discussion. “I’ll make you a deal. I will answer your questions, if you answer mine. You said that we are distrusting of outsiders, which is true. You are an outsider, Gandalf. What I know of you has not changed that, but Mahal insists that you will be able to help. I would like us to be honest with one another.” 

Gandalf’s lips pursed for a moment before he nodded. “Mahal?”

Thorin nodded once more. “I died,” he replied, as blunt as ever. “I went to the halls and Mahal met me there. He offered me a chance to come back, to reclaim Erebor in the way that he meant for me to do so.” Gandalf tilted his head slightly, a small motion to ask Thorin to continue. “I have done this quest before, and not… well. There were too many mistakes made, and I would like to correct them. Shall I tell you about them?” His last question came out more harsh than he intended, but admitting to his mistakes was not an easy thing for him to do. Particularly to the wizard, who he had felt was constantly judging and undermining him the last time. 

“No, I do not think that would be very helpful.” Gandalf paused, looking over Thorin once more. “It appears that I also made mistakes in the quest before, that has caused you to distrust me even more than is typical.” He couldn’t keep his surprise off his face, and the wizard offered him a small, kind smile. “I don't always get things right, Thorin. While I believe that I felt I was acting correctly, as I typically do, that does not always mean it is so.”

“But- You believe me? Just like that.” 

“I do. I have no reason to think that you would lie about this, and I have already seen how your behavior is different from when I met with you in Bree. Not to mention that I can see Mahal’s blessing quite clearly, which I’m sure he intended.”

Gandalf looked pointedly at Thorin’s shoulder, but when he looked, he only saw the linen of his tunic. It didn’t matter, he supposed. As long as the wizard believed him. “He said I should talk to you, but you don’t want to know what happened?”

“Yes. I fear that if I know too much, too much may change. It is complicated, Thorin. I will have to trust in your decisions.” 

He let out a soft huff of laughter. “You didn’t like that so much last time.” 

“Well, I also have to trust that your decisions are more informed than mine, and made for the sake of the Company and quest, not any prejudices you may hold,” Gandalf replied pointedly, raising his bushy eyebrows.

“Rivendell,” Thorin replied, unable to keep the disgruntled expression from his face. “You want Lord Elrond to look at the map.” 

Gandalf let out a hum and pulled out the map once more, glancing at it before passing it to Thorin. “I assume that you already know whatever secret is hidden here?” Thorin nodded, and he could see Gandalf trying to decide if he needed to still argue for going to the Last Homely House or what other way they may cross the mountains.

Thorin sighed and let the wizard think. His gaze traveled over the room, taking in the study once more. He had been in here the day before, but it looked different from this chair, and it occurred to him that this was what Bilbo saw when his hobbit looked around the room. 

And what should be hanging on the wall in front of him, but a map of the Misty Mountains, with Rivendell marked on it by hand. “I assume you took Bilbo’s mother to Rivendell?”

“I did, yes. Why?”

“Bilbo grew up on those stories.” He hadn’t taken his eyes from the map, and unbidden memories of Bilbo’s face while they were in Rivendell appeared in his mind. Thorin let out a sigh. “We’ll go to Rivendell anyway. It saves us the trouble of explaining how we know what the map says, and the closer we stay to the original route, the better. Something important happens in the Misty Mountains, and I don’t know that it could occur if we went a different way.” 

Finally, he looked back at the wizard, and glared as soon as he saw the amused twinkle in his eyes. “All very good reasons. Including fulfilling Bilbo’s wish of meeting Elves. May I ask-?”

“Must you? I’m sure you’ve figured it out.” Thorin’s voice sounded petulant even to his own ears. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed about having Bilbo as his One. His only embarrassment was that he was so clearly pining for someone who didn’t know him well enough to have any feelings in return. It was going to be a long quest, if he was going to get teased for this by everyone.

“What happens in the mountains? You said it was important. Important enough that I should know?”

Thorin bit his lip. Most likely, the Ring was exactly the reason that Mahal wanted him to confide in the wizard. But he realized that the Ring was also likely why Bilbo was able to slip in places unnoticed and get them out of some trouble, including Thranduil’s prison. Would Gandalf insist on going against Mahal’s plan?

“Yes. But- I need assurances from you before I can speak of it. Last time, you had a nasty habit of abandoning us, right before we found ourselves in some trouble. That can’t happen again.” 

“Now, Thorin, I do not belong to you and your Company, and I have no idea of where my services will be needed.” He could tell that he had hit a nerve with the wizard, and Thorin rolled his eyes.

“You came to me, remember? You planted the seed and now that it’s happening, I need to know that I can depend on you just as much as if you were a member of my Company. This is not just for my safety and the convenience of having a wizard around.” Thorin’s voice was firm and he glared at Gandalf. 

After a moment, Gandalf nodded. “You’re right. I will do my utmost to make sure I do not have to leave you, as much as possible. Will that suffice?”

Thorin considered; it was a better assurance than anything else, he supposed. “It will have to. I may need you to keep me sane. I may not be able to tell you everything, but having someone who knows will be helpful.”

Gandalf’s lips quirked. “What happened in the mountains that is so worth this, then?”

He sighed and glanced at the door to make sure that it was closed, and he couldn’t see any shadows in the space underneath the door. “Bilbo finds the Ring,” he said softly. Gandalf blinked, his brow furrowing. “ _The_ Ring, Gandalf. The One.” 

It was as though he had prodded the wizard with a rather large stick. Gandalf stood swiftly, which Thorin found more amazing than anything, considering how twisted up he seemed to be in that chair. “You’re certain?”

“I didn’t know before. Mahal told me. He said that Bilbo was fated to find it, and I am supposed to be with him when he goes to destroy it. It… didn’t work out that way, before.” Even only knowing that part of his Maker’s plan, he was swept up in how spectacularly he had failed. He had not let himself dwell on it, and he knew it would only take a well placed question from Gandalf to bring him down into self reflection and pity. 

The wizard seemed to realize that as well, if the empathetic look on his face was anything to go by. “Well. We will just have to make sure it works that way _this_ time.” Gandalf bent his head slightly until Thorin met his gaze and nodded. “I will need to call a council meeting while we’re in Rivendell, to discuss this new information, but I think you are right. We need to make sure Bilbo finds the ring again.” 

Thorin rose, running a hand over his face. “Gandalf-” he started, and the wizard raised an eyebrow at him. “Why him? Mahal said that hobbits seem to be more resilient against its evil, but- Why him?”

“I am not sure. Perhaps it is merely that he is a hobbit, or perhaps he, of all of them, is strong enough to bear it. No matter the reason, it cannot be denied that it is his destiny. The only thing we can do is help him with it.” 

Thorin nodded and followed after Gandalf to find the rest of the kitchen had found their way into the kitchen. There was significantly less food than the night before, and he worried for a moment that there would be nothing left for him. 

A soft cough came from behind him and he whipped around to see Bilbo, a full plate in his hands. “I saved this for you when you hadn’t come back.” 

Taking the plate, he offered a soft smile to Bilbo. “Thank you. Will you be ready to leave after breakfast?” He made no move to sit at the table with the rest of the company. Instead, he picked up a piece of bacon, barely acknowledging Gandalf moving to the table with a mumble about giving them privacy. 

“Oh, yes. I told my gardener that I would be away for a while, and he’ll take care of my effects while I’m away.” The mention of Bilbo returning home at the end of the quest made his chest twinge, but he pushed the feeling away. Who knew what would happen in the following months - and more - of the quest? It was something that could be figured out later, when things between the two of them were more clear. 

“I’m glad to hear it. Have you eaten? I know hobbits eat more meals than dwarrow, but we likely won’t stop until after lunch.” Discovering that had been difficult for Thorin, and the rest of the Company. None of them had liked the idea that they had been practically starving their hobbit when they found out, and it was another thing that Thorin would have to find a solution for once they were on the road. 

“Balin mentioned it. I’ve packed some snacks for myself that should last for a while. I appreciate the concern, though.” There was a mischievous smile pulling at Bilbo’s lips that made Thorin’s cheeks flush, sure that he was obvious in his affections even to Bilbo by this point. 

Before any teasing comment could escape the hobbit, Thorin swiftly interjected. “Yes, well, you should finish this, I’m quite full,” and shoved the first thing he touched on the plate into Bilbo’s mouth before moving swiftly back to his room to gather his things. The sputtering from behind him almost made him stop and turn back, but that would only make his embarrassment worse. 

It was going to be a long journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to come say hi or ask me questions, please stop by my [tumblr!](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/). Next time, we'll actually be getting on to the road!


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some small moments on the road!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos and subscriptions. It makes me itch to keep writing this so that I can deliver for you all, and I really appreciate all the support.

Much as they were keeping the quest a secret, there were some things that were unavoidable. Going to Bree was one of them. Not only was it directly on their way, but it was more useful to stock up there than any of the markets in the Shire. On their way to the stables to get their ponies, while ignoring Bilbo’s insistence that he didn’t have to ride one their entire way, they stopped at the market to pick up more food for the journey, but that was the only thing that the hobbits offered that would be useful in the wild. 

Once they got their ponies, Bilbo was put on his, much the same as last time, with Fili and Kili lifting and depositing him in the saddle. Thorin let out a snort of laughter as he sidled up to Bilbo. “Ride beside me? I find hobbit roads confusing.” 

The hobbit was still grumbling about the pony, but nodded. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it along with the reins as he steered them up the road. He kept his head up, but Thorin saw many of the hobbits around them start whispering to each other as soon as they passed, and Thorin sent them a fierce glare. Judging by the terrified looks on the hobbits’ faces, it probably wasn’t helpful to Bilbo’s reputation, but their behavior only served to remind him of why he had judged Bilbo so harshly at first.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” he murmured, and Bilbo sent him a grateful smile. 

“Well- From the way you put it, you would be lost without me.” There was a nervous flicker in Bilbo’s eye, as though starting the journey meant that they could no longer joke with one another as they had the past two days.

Thorin maintained a solemn look on his face for a few seconds. Long enough to nod and add, “From the very beginning, clearly.” 

Bilbo snorted, shaking his head slightly. Then, he sat up and cocked his head, his leaf-like ear twitching. “Do you know what they’re betting on?” Thorin glanced behind him, seeing a flurry of coin purses, iglishmêk signs, and some whispered conversations. Last time, the bet had been on whether Bilbo would come along, but that was settled before that bet could develop. Thorin glanced at Dwalin, who sent him a smirk and gave some coins to Nori. 

If the Company hadn’t known about his regard for their burglar, they all certainly did now. His gaze caught on Fili and Kili, who were both looking between them with shocked expressions on their faces, and Thorin sighed. “No idea,” he replied, turning back to Bilbo. “We’re taking the East-West Road, right?”

The subject change was useful. Bilbo seemed to forget about the bet and discussed the different main roads that were used in the Shire, and what this particular road would lead them through. Apparently, going through Buckland would take them very close to the Old Forest, and Thorin noticed that the front of the line suddenly got very crowded with the rest of the Company as Bilbo started telling a story about an ancestor of his meeting his Fairy wife in the Old Forest and how that resulted in a more adventurous breed of hobbits that Bilbo hailed from.

The travel was slow. That was one thing Thorin had forgotten. As used to traveling as he was, when he looked back on how the quest had occurred the first time, the endless days at the beginning of ponyback was conveniently forgotten. It was just Bag End, Bree, Trolls, Elves, Goblins, and so on in his memory. 

Thorin let himself relax a bit more. If things were roughly the same, they had another week of so before they started running into real trouble. He listened with everyone else as Gloin spun poetry about his family when they stopped for lunch, though not nearly as much - he had already heard it and much more. Instead, he watched Bilbo, who was asking questions to his cousin, feeding into the topic, much to the grumbling of Oin and nearly everyone else. 

“Are you going to do anything about that?” Balin asked him, glancing pointedly at Bilbo. Thorin blinked and looked down at his hands, holding an empty plate that he didn’t really remember eating. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“Not yet,” he murmured, trying to give himself a mental shake. With everything he had been through, he found it difficult to believe that he was really here, that he was getting a second chance at Erebor and with Bilbo. While on pony, with stories being passed back and forth, it was all too easy for him to get lost in his thoughts, his fears that he won’t do any better this time, and he had found himself staring at members of the company, as though trying to commit their image to his memory. Bilbo was often his focus, but it happened just as much with his nephews, both of whom had started looking at him with concern whenever they caught him. 

Balin let out a hum, and Thorin could feel his eyes on him without looking. “Are you alright, laddie? Finding your One should be cause for celebration.” 

Thorin didn’t even bother denying it. There was very little point, especially with Balin. “We’re on a quest that could see us all killed. It’s hardly the time for me to be distracted.” The words were as much for Balin as they were for him. He needed to focus. They were only a day away from Bag End, and he knew things were only going to get worse. 

“I beg to differ.” Thorin finally looked over at Balin, confusion evident as he took in the small smile on his advisor’s face. “You’re right, we may very well all die. Which means that we should take any bit of happiness we can get. If that means making your feelings known to the hobbit, you should do so.” 

He had no cause to doubt Balin’s words, but his eyes narrowed regardless. A glance around showed that no one was listening, but packing up, and he turned Balin once more. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a bet that was placed this morning?”

He was gratified by Balin’s cheeks growing ruddy, even as he was shaking his head. “I just want you to be happy, laddie.” 

Thorin huffed and shook his head as he rose. “Then let me act in my own time.” His standing seemed to signal for everyone to get on their ponies once more, and they were on the road again within ten minutes. 

Now on the main road, Bilbo had fallen back to speak with Bofur, leaving Thorin with Gandalf on one side and Balin on the other. With that particular combination, it meant that he could not discuss plans with Gandalf, and he did not particularly want to speak with Balin at the moment - he was sure that it would circle back around to Bilbo. He may not seem it, but Thorin was all too aware of how manipulative Balin could be. Never maliciously, but the fact that Thorin was certain he had money on when Thorin would act on his feelings meant that he would be relentless.

The next two days continued on in the same way. Thorin spoke with Bilbo sporadically, as the hobbit seemed to be doing his best to get to know each of the dwarrow individually. Another difference from before, but one that Thorin felt good about. His early acceptance of their burglar meant that the others were more willing to be open and accept him into the fold. They stopped at the convenient inns while they were still in the Shire, first in a small village called Frogmorton, and then in Buckland the next night. 

“We should reach Bree tomorrow if we push the ponies a bit more.” Thorin was sitting with half the company at one of the tables. The other half was up getting more ale or more food, or bathing upstairs in one of the rooms they had gotten. 

Bilbo nodded quickly. “I think that’s best. Otherwise, we would end up camping near the Old Forest or, worse, the Barrowdowns.” Bilbo was trying to play it off, but Thorin could see there was something fearful hidden in the depths of his hazel eyes, which made him seem far more fidgety than he had all day. 

“You believe the stories that they’re haunted?” Balin asked before Thorin could ask a question or offer reassurance. Any dwarrow that had traveled the East-West Road had heard tales that the Downs were haunted by wights that would suck the soul from travelers who got too close. But none of the dwarrow were aware of any truth in these rumors. 

Bilbo looked around the table, surprised that they were questioning it before he rolled his eyes. “I’ve no reason to not believe it. I know a hobbit lass that got lost in the Downs, and she was never the same after. Whether you believe me or not, I’d rather put up with saddle sores than linger anywhere near them.” 

Thorin’s lip twitched slightly as he resisted the urge to smirk. Bilbo was more familiar with these parts of the world, after all. He merely nodded, “It’s a good thing that was my plan, then. No need to worry, burglar. We won’t let any wights steal you away.” 

He could tell that Bilbo wanted to snark back at his teasing. He was holding himself stiffly, and his face was pinched, as though he was physically holding the words back by his teeth. Thorin raised an amused eyebrow at him, challenging him, and Bilbo got up and stormed off with a huff. 

“What was that about?” Dwalin asked, tracking Bilbo as he went to a table of some hobbits that he knew. 

“I think he feels it wouldn’t be proper yet to snap at me,” Thorin murmured, taking a sip of his ale. Still, it was progress. The next hour passed quickly, and yet Thorin was feeling more and more surly that Bilbo had not returned to them. He knew he could go to the hobbit, but restrained himself. After all, the next few days would be the last time that his hobbit would see his kin for who knows how long, and even if Thorin knew that Bilbo didn’t really like most of them, there were a few that he liked. Clearly. 

Thorin cast another half hearted glare at the table of hobbits that Bilbo was at, earning himself an elbow in the gut from Dwalin. “Stop brooding. I don’t understand your attachment to him, but let him say his goodbyes without feeling guilty.” 

He sighed and nodded before downing the rest of his ale. “I’m going to bed then.” 

“Want me to make sure no one follows you for a bit?” Dwalin’s voice was quiet, but a glance over revealed the amused, almost wolfish grin. So his sneaking away the night before to pleasure himself had been noticed. Of course. Thorin rolled his eyes and nodded.

Before either of them could move, though, Bilbo came over with a hobbit lass. Thorin’s eyes narrowed slightly; she was pretty, with dark hair in ringlets and clear blue eyes. She and Thorin could have been related if it wasn’t for their difference in race. She was nervous, her fingers fidgeting in a way that was similar to Bilbo that only served to put him out more. Just how well did this lass know _his_ hobbit?

“Thorin, lads, this is my cousin, Primula,” Bilbo introduced. The lass dropped into a curtsy, which was met with a moment of shuffling as the dwarrow rose and offered their own bows. “I was hoping we could provide her an escort to Bree - she needs to find a gift for her intended.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fili wilt like a trampled flower, which he made a note to deal with later. However, Thorin perked up a bit, remembering the story about this cousin that Bilbo had told him a few days ago. He felt a small smile pull at his lips at his relief, which was returned by both hobbits. Next to him, Dwalin shook his head slightly. “Why don’t you take a seat, Primula, and we can get to know one another. I doubt you want to be on the road all day with strangers.”

“Prim, please.” The lass sat down in front of Thorin, and with a little shuffling, Bilbo sat next to her. “I agree, but with what Bilbo has been telling us about you all, I feel like I know you already.” 

“Oh, Prim-!” Bilbo’s blush was back, which was a welcome sight. It had been missing all day, and it made Thorin grin at him, ridiculously pleased. 

“What? They’re your friends, no shame in bragging on them.” 

A quick glance around the table showed that the rest of the dwarrow were grinning at Bilbo, same as Thorin. The hobbit let out a put upon sigh and sent a half hearted glare at Primula. “Now they’re going to tease me mercilessly.” 

“To be fair,” Bofur started, leaning over and ruffling Bilbo’s hair, “we were going to do that anyway.” Bilbo batted the dwarf’s hands away with a huff. Thorin watched with amusement as he gave his head a shake, his curls waving wildly. Thorin squeezed his hands into fists around his tankard; the temptation to reach out and right his hobbit’s messy curls was too tempting. 

“So, your intended?” Thorin asked, hoping that Prim would prove a distraction from Bilbo for everyone. 

Her eyes were lit up with amusement and she had been watching them all with no small amount of fascination. He made another mental note to ask her about that later. “Yes, it’s the next part of our courting,” she started. At Thorin’s raised eyebrow, she quickly went on to explain, with Bilbo interjecting. “It’s the next to last step. Gift giving is very important to Hobbits, and the gift should be something that is very personal and speaks to how well I know Drogo.” 

“It’s a sort of culmination. The next step is the families getting together - though they already have - and planning a date for the wedding and so on.” Bilbo looked around the table, “Is that very different from how you all do it?”

A chance to find out more about hobbit courting customs was lucky, and Thorin had wanted to find out about whatever previous steps Prim had to go through - purely for academic purposes. Of course, Bilbo, with his insatiable curiosity, had beat him to it. 

Fili and Kili had started explaining dwarven courting rites, with Balin censoring them from revealing too much. The opportunity had passed and he only hoped that it would come up again the next day. Thorin leaned over to murmur to Dwalin. “Let Prim know that she can come with us tomorrow, as long as she’s ready to go after breakfast.” 

His friend nodded, and Thorin did his best to ignore the amused smirk that was shot at him. The rest of the company was still all downstairs in the common room, and he would be a fool to ignore the privacy he was granted when it would be so limited once they were on the road properly. 

~*~*~*~*~

His hopes of possibly talking to Primula by herself were dashed as soon as they got to the ponies. She shared with Bilbo, any hint of nervousness from the night before completely gone as she spoke and joked with the dwarrow closest to them. Thorin was too far ahead to hear anything properly, and he used the time to prepare himself for the next part of the journey. He had yet to really develop a plan to defeat the trolls without Bilbo, or any of the rest of the company, being in danger - at least, one that didn’t immediately make everyone suspicious of how he knew about them to begin with.

They had been on the road for a few hours now when he noticed that the ponies were behaving nervously and the higher pitched voices of the hobbits behind him had quieted. He glanced behind him, and noted that both of the hobbits’ eyes were on to their right, watching warily where the treeline of the Old Forest diminished and the landscape was taken over by high, craggy hills. The Barrowdowns. 

“We’ll ride through lunch,” Thorin announced, and the grumbling from the dwarrow was curtailed as soon as they noticed how much that statement caused the hobbits to relax. “Prim, why don’t you tell us a story? Fili and Kili have been regaling you with tales of their mischief all morning.”

“Oh, but Bilbo’s a far better storyteller than I am.” 

Thorin smirked and looked over his shoulder at them again, his gaze snagging on Bilbo’s faint flush for a second before shifting over to Prim. “Maybe, but he’s yet to tell us any stories from his childhood.” 

“Don’t you dare!” Bilbo’s protest was obviously ignored as Prim grinned wickedly, and it was that action - more than anything - that made him see the similarity between the two. The dwarrow chuckled and pulled out some cram from their packs to munch on while Prim seemed to be thinking of what story she wanted to tell them, completely ignoring Bilbo’s continued grumbling.

Prim proceeded to launch into a tale from when they were both young - apparently hobbit children were called faunts - and Bilbo had come up with a grand plan of stealing a pie from Primula’s mother. “Of course, the plan wasn’t very good and didn’t take into account that there were windows we could be seen from as we went around the smial to try to take the pie from the sill. My ma was very angry and didn’t let Bilbo come over for a month. Said he was a bad influence. Anyone who knows him knows that’s not the case at all. He doesn’t even really like cherry pie, but it’s my favorite.” 

For someone who claimed to not be a good storyteller, Prim’s story had the dwarrow laughing and Bilbo slouching down in the saddle, trying to hide his flaming face in her shoulders. Thorin could just picture a tiny Bilbo trying to steal a pie for his beloved cousin and suffering the punishment, likely with a put out frown on his face. 

Gandalf pulled up next to him, still grinning from Prim’s story and ignoring Gloin as he started a story of his son, Gimli, doing something similar when he was younger. “His burglarizing skills have improved since then, I’m sure,” the wizard commented, chuckling.

Thorin glanced over his shoulder, noting that most of the dwarrow were closer to the hobbits and couldn’t hear them. “They have, with some help,” he glanced over at Gandalf, pointedly, and watched as the smile faded away to a concerned frown. 

“I don’t like the idea of him using it.” 

“I’m going to try to prevent the instances he had to before, but he will need to once in the mountain. There’s no way around it that I can think of. If you come up with something, please tell me.” Thorin had no idea what sort of impact the Ring would have on Bilbo, if it was worse the more that it was worn, but he didn’t want to find out. He wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible and then promptly forget about it. 

Gandalf shook his head. “I will continue thinking about it.” A comfortable silence, far more comfortable than Thorin had previously experienced with the wizard, fell between them. Between the gravity of what was ahead of them and the gloom that seemed to hover around the Barrowdowns, it was all too easy for him to get lost in his thoughts. He could still hear the others behind them, but they were left alone to their ponder. He assumed that Gandalf was trying to think of how to get to Smaug without Bilbo using the ring, while he focused on the trolls. It would only be a few more days before they ran into them. So far, Thorin had only thought of taking Gandalf and perhaps Dwalin with him to go find the trolls - though that would lead to questions from the larger dwarf. 

His other options were no more appealing. Either letting things play out the same, and possibly see Bilbo quartered if he couldn’t get there in time, or Thorin letting others know that he’d done this before. He had not figured it out any more by the time they reached the gates of Bree. They quickly left their ponies at the stable and made their way to the Prancing Pony, Prim joining them. 

“Since it’s so late, is it alright if I stay with you all for another night? I’ll go to the market tomorrow to look for the gift and go back with whatever bounder is heading back to the Shire,” Prim asked over dinner. He had no issue to this, but cast a look over at Bilbo in confusion at the unknown term. 

“Bounders patrol our lands. They work with the rangers a lot to help keep the Shire safe,” his hobbit explained. 

“Bilbo hasn’t told me where you all are going, but I assumed I shouldn’t wait for you to return to Bree before I go back home,” the lass added, causing Thorin’s lips to quirk into a smirk. He was glad that Bilbo hadn’t gone into it. They hadn’t explicitly said that the quest was a secret - Thorin knew there was very little point, as it seemed everyone in Middle Earth figured it out last time - but it was still appreciated that it was kept between them. 

“That sounds like a good plan. You and Bilbo can share the third room.” The rest of the dwarrow looked around, seemingly splitting up between them and Gandalf, who was going in the two remaining rooms. Bilbo protested, saying he didn’t want to cause a fuss, which only served to make Thorin roll his eyes. He leaned over to whisper into a pointed ear, “you should enjoy this last night with your cousin without snoring making it difficult to have conversations. We’re not sure when you’ll return.” 

When he leaned back, Bilbo’s eyes were wide and the tips of his ears red. The hobbit coughed meekly before nodding. “Thank you.” 

In the end, it was decided that Gandalf would join the hobbits’ room, while Thorin was with Fili, Kili, Balin, Dwalin, Bofur, and Bifur. Bombur, Dori, Ori, Nori, Gloin, and Oin would be in the other. It would be a tight squeeze for all of them, and it resulted in a fair amount of shoving the next morning to gain extra space. 

“It was lovely meeting all of you!” Prim waved them off after they had all given her farewell bows. Thorin was surprised by how much he had enjoyed chatting with her, even if he didn’t learn as much as he would have liked about hobbits. She was fairly similar to Bilbo - easy to converse with, with a slightly off sense of humor, and able to get past prejudices and stereotypes quickly. Perhaps Thorin had been unfair to quickly judge hobbit before, as the two he had conversations with had proved to be a delight. 

The next night saw them all quickly setting up camp quickly. They had yet to reach the burned out farmhouse, and he was having trouble remembering exactly when they would reach it. Knowing that it was soon and he still didn’t have a plan was only worsening his mood. Rather than lash out, as he might have before, he distanced himself from the company. He could see Balin and Dwalin shooting him looks from out of the corner of his eyes, but he leaned against the rock at his back and shut his eyes. He just needed to figure this out, and then it would be better. 

There was a soft sound next to him, and he resisted reaching for his weapon. The night was still and there was only one creature that could get so close to him so quietly, and he opened one eye to confirm it was Bilbo walking by. His hobbit offered him a small smile and then moved off towards the ponies. Thorin returned to his previous position, running through the merits of being the one to discover the ponies had gone missing and interacting with the trolls. Gandalf would have to be close behind him, though, and there was never a guarantee for how the wizard would react to orders. 

A screech cut through the air. Thorin sat up slightly, his hand dropping to his sword, though it was too far to be any danger to them. “What was that?” Bilbo shuffled back closer to the company, and Thorin was confronted with another moment that he had forgotten about. Balin was going to tell the story of the Battle of Azanulbizar.

“Orcs,” Kili breathed. Thorin shut his eyes, a flash of disappointment shooting through him. It was a joke, he knew, but it wasn’t funny in the least. It hadn’t been the first time and it still wasn’t. Much as he loved them, his nephews knew as much of the world as Bilbo did. He had seen them grow on the quest, along with the hobbit, but it didn’t make these early moments any easier. 

“Orcs?” Bilbo took a few steps closer. Not to the fire, but to Thorin, and he resisted the urge to lay a comforting hand on the hobbit’s arm. Thorin glanced over at Gandalf, who was watching the scene unfold with a furrowed brow. 

“Throat Cutters,” Fili added. From where Thorin was sitting, he couldn’t see the expression on his nephews’ faces, but he didn’t have to in order to know that there was a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. “There’ll be dozens of them out there. The Lone Lands are crawling with them.”

“They strike in the wee small hours when everyone’s asleep.” Kili picked up the tale, a hint of relish in his voice. Thorin scowled. What they were saying wasn’t wrong, but Bilbo was clenching his hands into fists, as though willing to stop them from shaking. It made a spike of anger pierce him. Bilbo was brave, but it was a spontaneous bravery. Being confronted with a night raid was just going to terrify him. “Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood.”

Bilbo tore his gaze away from them, looking out over the plains in front of them. He seemed to miss the lads’ chuckles, but Thorin didn’t. “You think that’s funny?” he asked, the displeasure evident in his voice. It was the first time since he had been reunited with his nephews that that tone had come out, and he felt badly about it, even as he continued. “You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?”

“We didn’t mean anything by it.” Kili tried using an age old trick, his brown eyes wide and innocent looking. 

It only made Thorin frown as he passed Bilbo, who was looking between the two of them, confused. “No, you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.” He walked away from them, shaking his head. He could hear Balin start placating them and launching into the tale of Azog and the battle as an explanation for his behavior. Thorin settled next to Gandalf, pulling out his own pipe as he attempted to ignore the tale of one of his worst moments. 

Well, worst before his fall into madness and subsequent death. 

Gandalf didn’t say anything, which Thorin was thankful for. He heard the story come to a close, and he took a deep breath to try to relax, to make the anger and shame dissipate. 

Bilbo approached him after a few moments. He sat on Thorin’s other side and didn’t say anything for a long moment. He glanced over at Gandalf, surprised to see that the wizard’s eyes were closed and he was breathing evenly, his pipe still burning in his hand. 

The pipe was quickly filched by Bilbo, causing Thorin to smirk, even if he didn’t truly believe that Gandalf was sleeping. “They didn’t mean anything by it,” Bilbo started quietly. Thorin focused on the bowl of his own pipe as he tried to ignore how Bilbo’s wrapped around the wizard’s pipe. 

“It’s not something to joke about,” he replied gruffly. 

“I agree. But they look like kicked puppies now. They don’t want to disappoint you.” Bilbo let out a smoke ring, which caused Thorin’s lips to quirk. He had never mastered that talent, and he added to his running mental list to ask Bilbo to teach him sometime. “I can promise, they won’t joke about it again.”

“Only because I told them off.” Thorin sighed. “I know I am hard on them, but they need to learn. It was cruel to make you more scared than you already are.”

Bilbo let out a huff and scowled over at him. Thorin raised an eyebrow at him. “Let me decide that, will you? Yes, I’m scared, but none of them are going to respect me if you jump down everyone’s throat for a joke.” 

“They respect you.” 

“Maybe. But respect can be lost.” 

Thorin snorted. That was a lesson he had learned the hard way. He couldn’t imagine how differently his company would look at him if they knew that he had fallen to gold sickness. How much respect had he lost from them while he had been consumed?

Bilbo’s hand on his arm pulled him from his thoughts. It was a light touch, barely there, and removed quickly as soon as he noticed. “Don’t be too hard on them. That’s all I’m saying. They’re young, and they’ve learned this lesson.” 

_He would be a good uncle_ , Thorin thought idly. A small smile pulled at his lips as he looked back at Bilbo. The moon shining down on them put a silver light on him once more, and it was distracting for a moment before he nodded. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am. I think you’ll find that I’m quite brilliant,” Bilbo answered primly around his stolen pipe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next - TROLLS.
> 
> Come say hi to me on my [tumblr!](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TROLLS! ORCS! ELVES! Oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really fun to write and figure out how Thorin would handle everything, so I hope you all enjoy it! As usual (and something I keep forgetting to put in), some dialogue taken from Peter Jackson's movies.

They reached the farmhouse the next afternoon. Thorin had rode alongside his nephews for most of the day. He appreciated that they were on their best behavior, but he couldn’t help but sigh to himself when that seemed to mean that teasing him about his affection for Bilbo was viewed as a safe game. He couldn’t exactly get angry at them for what everyone else was doing, and as long as they didn’t tell Bilbo… it was fine. He could take it.

That didn’t mean it didn’t get annoying. 

By the time the farmhouse came into view, he was quite glad to be away from them for a bit and assigned them to mind the ponies without even thinking about it. 

He went to Gandalf instead of changing his order and drawing attention to it. “Can you conjure light?” The wizard blinked at him, apparently expecting more of a segue into the very important question he had asked. “Like sunlight?” Thorin added when he didn’t get an answer. 

The wizard tilted his head. “I can. Why?”

Thorin sighed quietly. For someone who said he didn’t want to know what had happened last time, Gandalf seemed very keen on getting details. “There are mountain trolls, not far from here.” His statement was met with an eyebrow raise, and Thorin smiled grimly. “I would avoid them, but there are items we need in their hoard. They’re too important to leave behind.” 

“You have a plan then? While I can conjure the light, it will not turn them to stone. It’s not really sunlight.” Thorin nodded, rubbing his beard as he thought. 

“It could distract them, though. For us to defeat them.” 

“How do you plan on telling the others of the trolls without giving away how you know?”

Thorin glanced over at Bilbo, who seemed to notice after a few seconds and shot him a smile before going to gather wood for the fire. “It won’t take much. They’ll take some of the ponies,” he murmured. Gandalf’s eyes were shooting between Thorin and Bilbo, a small smile pulling at his face, as though he had figured out that Thorin was taking on the role that had belonged to Bilbo previously. “I will point out,” he added, when it looked like Gandalf was going to make a comment. “That I have been at my nephews’ mercy all day about my affections and my patience isn’t at its highest.” 

Instead of whatever comment he wanted to make, Gandalf snorted, a grin stealing across his face. “How is that different from normal, your majesty?” Thorin scowled. He wasn’t sure if this closer friendship between the two of them was so much better than the distrust of last time. It seemed to have its drawbacks as well. “I will wait for your signal then. Even if the plan is stupidly simple.”

“Emphasis on stupid?” Gandalf hummed and nodded. Thorin couldn’t really argue, but he had faith that they could defeat the trolls - or at least keep them busy until actual dawn came. 

“Trolls do not usually come this far south, though,” Gandalf murmured. Thorin rested his arms on the edge of the remains of a window and nodded. “I assume they came down from the Ettenmoors.”

Another conversation he had forgotten about. It was hard to keep track of all the little things. Thorin nodded. “Which hasn’t happened in an Age, I assume.” He saw Gandalf look down at him, his eyebrow raised. “Not since a darker power ruled these lands?” The wizard hummed and nodded, looking out the burned window in consideration. Thorin patted his arm and walked away. Sauron - or whatever other power was taking over the Trollshaws - was not his concern at the moment.

Night fell, and found Bilbo next to Thorin. He knew that it was only because he viewed Thorin as his first, and probably closest, friend within the company, but it still brought a smile to his face. Bilbo was attempting to teach Thorin to blow smoke rings after he was asked, but he kept getting distracted when he was correcting the shape of Thorin’s mouth. “Am I still not doing it right?”

Bilbo blinked, and Thorin was sure that if a flush wasn’t already tainting the hobbit’s cheeks, one would be developing quickly. He tried not to feel too smug about it, but he could feel a grin on his lips. “Oh hush, you. And no, of course you’re not doing it right, or you’d be blowing smoke rings like a chimney by now.”

“Do hobbit chimneys blow smoke rings, Master Baggins?” 

Bilbo rolled his eyes and took a puff from his pipe, seemingly determined to ignore Thorin’s presence rather than replying. This only caused the dwarf to chuckle to himself. 

“Master Baggins, will you take these bowls to the lads?” Bofur called over. Thorin tensed and was already standing before Bilbo could actually reply. 

“I’ll do it.” Thorin tapped out his pipe and stowed it away in his coat before taking the two bowls. With a glance at Gandalf, he made his way to the ponies with a curl of anticipation in his belly. 

Fili and Kili had their backs to him, and he could see how much they tensed as they realized who was approaching them. “Dinner for you both,” he explained, coming to a stop between them. Fili’s swallow was an audible _gulp_ , and Thorin would have been more amused if he wasn’t about to walk into a troll camp. “Problem?”

“Nope.” 

“Not at all. Thank you, uncle.”

Thorin glanced between the two of them. He could understand not wanting to admit to losing some of the ponies, he supposed. They still felt bad about the orc situation from the night before and didn’t want to disappoint him again. Even if he could understand it, keeping it from him wasn’t going to help. 

“You know, if something happened, you can tell me.” His voice was far gentler than he would use with any other dwarrow. A blonde and dark head both whipped towards him, with wide eyes. Thorin kept his gaze forward, pointedly trailing over each pony. Two were missing. “I’ll likely respond better than if I find out about something happening later on,” he added idly. His gaze slid over to Fili; he was unsurprised to see that his older nephew was trying to maintain an innocent expression. He knew that ‘responding better’ didn’t mean he wouldn’t get in trouble. 

That was a little disappointing. He’d have to talk to Fili about that later.

Thorin focused his attention on Kili instead, raising an eyebrow. His younger nephew was never able to keep a secret for long, and he wasn’t within arm’s reach of Fili for his brother to stop him from speaking. Fili seemed to have realized this as well, if the shuffling to his left was any indication. “Kili?” he prompted. 

“Two of the ponies are missing!” Thorin nodded as Fili let out a sigh. 

“How long?”

“Five minutes, maybe,” Fili murmured, taking the bowls of soup from Thorin’s hands and setting them aside. 

Thorin rolled his eyes and started heading towards the edge of the field they were keeping the ponies in. He could just faintly see a light in front of them, and he knew that would be the trolls’ fire. “You could have come and got me, rather than standing around and trying to will the ponies back.” 

“We were trying to come up with a plan-”

“-or the nerve,” Kili finished his brother’s sentence. At a sign from Thorin, both immediately quieted. There was a tree ripped up, as though something large had barreled straight towards it. Remembering the trolls from before, he wouldn’t have been surprised if that was exactly what happened. He was more curious about what the lads had been doing, that a stupid troll was able to take two of their ponies and not be noticed. 

It was only a few more moments before they could see properly. “Trolls. What’re we doing to do?” Thorin glanced over at Fili as he spoke. Even as they hid behind a log, one of the trolls walked by with two more ponies under its arms. Myrtle and Minty, if he was seeing properly. 

“You’re going to go get the others and tell them what happened. When I give you the signal, we’ll attack.” 

Kili nodded and immediately pulled back but Fili hesitated. “What are you going to do?”

A wry smile pulled at Thorin’s lips. “Distract them so they don’t take any more of our ponies. Or eat them.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, “I’m staying.” Thorin tensed and glared at Fili. Kili had stopped also, looking back at his brother with wide eyes. “It doesn’t take both of us to tell the others what happened, and Kili’s faster besides. Go,” he waved Kili off. After a few seconds, Thorin nodded, and Kili took off after shooting them both a frown. 

“We’re going to have to be quiet. Try to stick to the shadows as much as possible. Trolls are stupid. We can probably get them to think that they’re being stalked.” Or haunted, Thorin added. These trolls were likely to jump to conclusions, he remembered. 

Fili nodded, and they both separated. Thorin only moved far enough away that he could still make out his nephew’s shape. He felt a little silly, but once he was properly hidden in the shadows, he growled loudly. He thought it sounded similar to a bear. 

“Wassat?” Thorin was already moving away as one of the trolls spoke. A glance over his shoulder let him know that it was the one with the more prominent nose. That might have been the one that had sneezed on Bilbo last time, but he couldn’t be sure. 

A sound from the opposite end of the camp made him pause as he was trying to find a different spot. It sounded similar to an orc screech, and Thorin felt a small smile pull on his lips. 

“Orcs!”

“Leave them. They won’t taste good in the stew.” The cooking one was grumbling still when Thorin growled again. 

“Bear would,” the bigger one replied, already lumbering across the clearing towards Thorin. As quietly as he could, he slipped away. He cast his gaze about for somewhere he could hide - while the trolls weren’t quick, it was closer to him than he would prefer. A similar growl sounded opposite him, and he breathed a sigh of relief as the troll moved away. “It’s fast! Bert, help me catch it.” 

“Bear and nags?” The cooking one snorted derisively. “This is why you never cook. No appreciation for flavor.” 

As soon as Thorin was hidden away once more, he let out another growl. He wasn’t sure where Fili was, but the trolls had gotten closer to the edge of the camp than he would have liked. 

An owl hoot made the trolls pause. They glanced up, but Thorin was scanning the treeline. He had heard Kili give a bird call often enough that he could recognize it easily. His eyes caught on a weak glint of metal and he spotted Dwalin instead. The sound that came from his friend’s mouth was not unlike the scream of a drake, which made all the trolls shift nervously while Thorin’s eyes widened. He would have laughed if it wasn’t so dangerous to do so. 

“Are there dragons here?”

The dwarrow were moving, breaking into groups and making sure they weren’t near where the last sound had occurred. Thorin found himself with Nori and Bofur, who met him with mischievous smirks. They both gestured to Nori to make a sound as Bert was being cuffed around the ears for his stupid question. 

“Of course there aren’t no dragons here. What’re they going to do in a forest? It’d burn up all around them, wouldn’t it?” The cooking one turned back to his pot. Thorin noted with some satisfaction, and a healthy amount of trepidation, that the troll continued glancing around the clearing nervously. 

Nori let out a screech, and Thorin was amazed at how he made the sound seem as though there was a hawk swooping down to hunt. The trolls all ducked slightly, and Thorin’s group took the opportunity to move away as the sound of a boar came from their left. 

Soon, the clearing was full of all sorts of creature sounds, coming from every direction in a cacophony of noise that seemed to disorient the trolls. Bert was covering his ears and spinning in a circle, whimpering, “make it stop, Bill!”

Ah, that would be the cooking one, Thorin thought idly. He let out another growl and quickly moved as Bill threw a knife in his direction. “Just grab whatever it is!” The other one followed the direction of the knife, crashing into the brush. Thorin shook his head as he hid behind a stump. Even if there really were animals surrounding them, the troll’s movement would have scared them all off. 

For a moment, silence descended as his company had the same thought. “Tom?” Bert called out, his voice simpering as he looked to where the other had disappeared. 

“Where’d they go?” Thorin watched with amusement as Tom stopped and spun in a circle, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever animal may be around. An idea popped in his head and he signed it to Bofur and Nori before moving on, further away from the camp. 

He let out another growl, and watched as Tom immediately moved towards him. Thorin kept low through the brush, though he made sure to make enough noise for the troll to follow him. “Keep the pot ready, Bill! I’m gonna catch it!” Tom’s voice was almost gleeful as he followed Thorin. 

Another owl hoot came from overhead and Thorin changed direction, adding another growl to distract Tom more. Once he was close enough to Kili, he stopped and stood to his full height. A quick glance had shown him that Kili was balancing on a branch above him, his bow drawn and waiting until the troll was within range. 

“A dwarf! You’re not a bear.” Tom’s voice was almost petulant, and Thorin couldn’t help but grin fiercely. He couldn’t hear Bert or Bill anymore, which was perfect. Another hoot came from the tree above, taking the troll’s attention before he could move to grab Thorin. As soon as he looked up, Kili let his arrows loose. One landed in his eye, and Tom’s movement to slap his hand over his eye only drove the shaft in further. He stumbled back, and Thorin drew his sword to slash at the troll’s calf. As he fell to his knees, Gloin was behind him, ready with his axe to be brought down. 

Thorin glanced back towards the camp. He wondered if the other trolls had felt their fellow fall. He looked back at the troll as Gloin tried to wrest his axe from his skull. With a pull that nearly threw him off balance the axe was freed. They all looked over each other to check for injuries before moving back to join the others. 

Animal sounds gradually started up again as they got closer. They were happening quicker now, and Thorin could tell that Bill was getting agitated - it seemed he was more annoyed at Bert’s simpering than anything though. 

Thorin glanced over and saw Gandalf behind a tree. He was making peculiar clicking sounds that were very repetitive and annoying, and he could only assume that was part of the reason Bert was whimpering. Quietly, he slipped over to the wizard, who dropped to his knees so Thorin could whisper his next idea. 

As Gandalf smirked and moved away, Thorin signed in Iglishmêk to Bifur. _Where’s Bilbo?_ He hadn’t seen the hobbit since the trolls were found, and it was making him nervous. It had to have been at least an hour since they were sitting together around the fire, and he could only hope that Bilbo had been left there instead.

He had known it was a vain hope. Bifur signed _ponies_ , and gestured to where a hasty paddock had been built. Thorin could just barely make out a small shape at the back of it, buried in the shadows - completely hidden unless looked for. With the distraction the dwarrow were making, the trolls had ceased glancing at the horses long ago. _I gave him a dagger,_ Bifur added. That wasn’t nearly enough, but at least his One had something to defend himself. 

Thorin just had to make sure it wasn’t necessary.

“Bert! Come here!”

“Tom?” Bert lowered his hands. The animal sounds became slightly quieter, as though scared of Tom’s voice coming from deep in the trees. “Where are you?”

“Come here, you dummy! I caught the bear but it’s stuck on something.” 

Bert glanced over at Bill, who was glancing between the trees and the other troll with a frown on his face. “Go on. You two wanted bear so much,” he grumbled. Thorin stayed and joined in on making the animal sounds once more as Bert moved into the trees. He wasn’t sure who had joined Gandalf, but he was sure that soon only Bill would be left to deal with. 

All in all, this was working much better than it had last time. 

Bill, it seemed, was the smartest of the three. Even after Gandalf, Dori, and Balin had joined them once more and the animal calls became more concentrated in areas to draw him out, he refused to move from the pot. It didn’t seem like he would fall for the same bait as his fellows. 

“Where did they go?” The troll murmured, his glances towards the trees became more frequent as time stretched on. “Bert! Tom!” Thorin was moving quietly behind the treeline. The paddock was empty - Bilbo had managed to slip the ponies away under the cover of the animal sounds, so the ponies' neighs were lost. “Probably managed to fall in a ditch, knowing those two. No respect for my hard work,” Bill continued grumbling, his gaze alternating between the trees and the pot. “They can wait until I finish eating then.” Bill reached blindly towards the paddock, presumably to grab a pony.

He was very surprised when he snagged Thorin’s ankle instead. 

There was a rush of wind as he was picked up, and he had just enough thought to frantically sign for his company to stay where they were. He had to trust that this would be when Gandalf could offer up a distraction instead of his dwarrow rushing in. Even if thirteen against one was better odds than last time. 

“Dwarf!” Thorin recoiled as much as he could, dangling upside down from Bill’s hand as he was. The troll’s breath was horrendous. “You know where my brothers are?” 

Thorin couldn’t help the grimace that pulled at his lips. He didn’t even get a chance to answer before the troll started growling - much deeper and more fearsome than Thorin would ever be able to manage - and grabbed his arm to right him. He didn’t have time to be thankful for that, as the blood was rushing away from his head and he was reminded of how Bilbo had been in a similar position. 

It was very likely he would be torn in half by this troll. 

“I know where they are,” he called out. Bill’s growling stopped and he eyed the dwarf in his hands suspiciously. “But I don’t think you’ll find them before dawn.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, a bright light filtered through the trees. Bill raised one arm to shield his eyes, crying out - “Noooo!” - seemingly oblivious that the ‘sunlight’ was coming from the West. Thorin struggled against the hand still holding him, just as Bill seemed to realize that he wasn’t turning to stone. 

“Wait, wha- Oh!” Suddenly, the hand relaxed and Thorin dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks. Small hands were immediately pulling at his coat, and Thorin shook his head once before scrambling up, allowing Bilbo to tug him into the shadows. Something skittered across the leaves as he moved, and he saw it was a dagger that he had kicked. Probably the one that Bifur had given Bilbo, which had likely been dropped after the hobbit had stabbed Bill. He had a thought, _of course it was Bilbo that freed him_ , before a familiar deep voice was calling out:

“May the dawn take you!” Thorin and Bilbo had reached the treeline once more, where Fili and Kili immediately drew them in. As one they turned towards the East in time to see Gandalf break apart a large boulder, the weak sunlight coming through the crack, so different from the fake sunlight the wizard had conjured the moment before. The others stared in amazement as Bill did turn to stone now, while Thorin merely bent over, his hands resting on his knees. 

“Are you alright?”

Bilbo’s hand rested on his shoulder, so light that it almost felt like nothing, and Thorin’s eyes closed with relief. The trolls were just the first of their trials, but it was one that he had managed to change, had managed to _improve_ , and he let himself bask in that for a moment. 

“What were you thinking?” Thorin’s voice was raspy from disuse for half the night, and he winced as soon as it came out. “I mean-” 

“I was thinking that some idiot got himself nabbed by a troll and was going to be torn apart,” Bilbo shot back, pointedly taking his hand from Thorin’s shoulder. Bilbo shot him a disgruntled look, but Thorin could see the hurt and worry that lingered in those hazel eyes. The dwarf straightened, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“I’m sorry. Thank you for freeing me. I just-” Bilbo raised an eyebrow, and Thorin was very aware that his nephews were still right next to him. Even an unimpressed glare aimed at them didn’t seem to be enough to discourage them from hanging around as Thorin attempted to explain himself to his One. He sighed to himself, his eyes rolling before he ground out. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Yes, well, the same could be said for you,” the hobbit replied with a sniff. Thorin nodded. For the moment, he was content to leave it there. He gestured for Bilbo to join the others that were milling around the petrified troll. As soon as the hobbit was far enough away, he reached up and lightly smacked his nephews on the back of the head. 

“What was that for?!” 

“This whole debacle,” Thorin replied, ignoring Kili’s injured look. 

“You said we wouldn’t get in trouble.”

“I said it would be better if you were honest. Imagine how I would have reacted if you had tried to hide it.” His nephews sighed as they moved closer to the company, and Thorin smirked to himself. It only grew as he saw Gandalf lightly tap Bill with his staff. 

“Proud of yourself?” he asked the wizard. His gaze was drawn to Bilbo, who was chatting with Bombur. He felt a small twinge of annoyance at how Bilbo refused to look over at him, but it was mainly directed towards himself. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, his words were not able to convey what he was actually feeling. Dis often sighted it as a shortcoming of his. 

“As you should be. It was a good plan, Thorin, for one that was not fully thought out.” Gandalf’s words drew his attention once more, and Thorin dipped his head in thanks. 

“They have to have had a cave nearby,” he pointed out, looking up at Bill. The other dwarrow nodded. “Fan out.” 

Gandalf made no move to follow the others, instead raising his eyebrows at Thorin, who merely nodded his head in a direction to his left. He was fairly certain that was in the direction the cave had been last time. 

He was proven correct not a few moments later. Fili called out, and Gandalf and Thorin led the way down. 

“What’s that stench?” Bofur gagged from behind him. Thorin quickly took another few steps, putting space between them. He hadn’t been sick last time, but Thorin wasn’t willing to risk it. 

“It’s a troll hoard,” Gandalf pointed out drily. “Be careful what you touch.”

The others paused next to some chests of gold. Thorin spared hardly a glance at them - he didn’t feel the longing for the gold, which was a relief, but it wasn’t something he was even willing to entertain. He would love if gold meant nothing to him beyond what it could be traded for, but he didn’t know if that would truly be possible. 

He turned his back on the others, crossing quickly to a barrel of swords. Just as they should have been, Orcrist and Glamdring were there, covered in cobwebs. “Gandalf.” He set his torch aside in favor of picking the swords up and giving the larger to the wizard. 

“These were not made by any troll,” Gandalf commented idly, looking the scabbard over. “Nor any smith among men. These were forged in Gondolin! By the High Elves.” There was no hesitation this time as Thorin drew Orcrist from its scabbard. While the pommel was still covered in webs, the sword itself still shone, and he couldn’t help but appreciate having it back in his hands, no matter who the maker was. 

He met Gandalf’s gaze, which seemed to twinkle with fondness. “Another change?” Thorin merely nodded, aware of Dwalin not far behind him. 

“Dwalin. Send the others in, if they want to find something they like. Tell them to be quick about it.” He watched as Dwalin nodded at him before rolling his eyes at the others. They were burying a chest in the ground, which made Thorin smirk before turning back to the wizard. “There is another sword somewhere. Smaller than a dagger. You gave it to Bilbo last time.” 

His words were quiet, but Gandalf nodded. “I’ll look for it. Go on.” 

Thorin nodded and made his way out of the cave. There wasn’t much time before they were found by the other wizard and then the orc pack. “Get the ponies ready,” he called out to the dwarrow that weren’t in the cave. “We need to be ready to move quickly.” 

“Are we in danger?” Bilbo asked, his brow furrowed. 

_Yes,_ he thought, even as he shook his head. “We need to rest, and I’d rather not do it anywhere near these trolls.” Bilbo’s relieved expression made Thorin reach out, giving him a hesitant squeeze to his elbow before going to help with the ponies. 

“Bilbo!” A glance over his shoulder revealed Gandalf leaving the cave, a small, familiar sword in his hands. Thorin let out a sigh. One goal accomplished. He let Gandalf speak to his hobbit. He hadn’t heard the words last time, and he didn’t necessarily need to now. As long as Bilbo had a weapon to defend himself. 

“Something’s coming!” Kili called out. Thorin knew it was the wizard and didn’t react as he had last time. He merely continued getting Minty ready, oblivious to the confused look that Balin was sending him. 

“THIEVES! FIRE! MURDER!”

Weapons were drawn all around him. Thorin glanced at the eccentric wizard, but found his gaze trained on the trees around them. A warg would make an appearance soon. 

“Radagast! Radagast the Brown!” Gandalf greeted the other wizard, looking him over quizzically. 

“I was looking for you. Something’s wrong.” 

“Can you have this discussion while we move?” Thorin cut in. A flash of irritation crossed Gandalf’s face but when he met Thorin’s gaze it was replaced with a look of understanding. He assumed that the wizard had caught the look of worry that Thorin hadn’t tried to hide. 

“Yes. We need to get to Rivendell as soon as possible.” 

Cries from the dwarrow went up, and Thorin rolled his eyes. “Get on the ponies!” He yelled harshly. They all paused before hastening to do as he said. The only one who hesitated another moment was Bilbo, who was looking at Thorin with a curious expression. Thorin got on to his pony to avoid that look anymore - he felt as though Bilbo could see right through him, could see the nervousness that he was masking with irritation. 

As they moved out, Gandalf and Radagast in the front, Thorin could hear snatches of what they were speaking about. Something about the Greenwood and the blade that was passed between them. He hoped that Gandalf would fill him in later; he had a feeling about whatever news that Radagast had. The other wizard seemed to be a nervous fellow, just as he was last time, but at least he wasn’t slowing them down. With any luck, they would reach Rivendell before the orc pack even found them. 

“Are we going the most direct route?” He called up, when he thought there was a lull in the conversation. 

“We will be, once we get past the trees,” Gandalf called back. 

“Why are we going to the Elves?” Dwalin murmured. He had pulled his pony close, despite the trot they were going. Thorin would prefer to go faster, but there was no reason as of yet. Thorin hoped that there wouldn’t be. 

“Gandalf says they can read the map,” he replied, glancing over. Dwalin was looking at him with concern, and he felt as though his time of getting away with acting oddly - as far as those who knew him were concerned anyway - was coming to an end. 

“Surely there are others.” Balin was on his other side, and Thorin swallowed, keeping his eyes glued to the grey robe in front of him. Between his cousins on either side of him and the wargs he knew were behind them, he was having trouble not feeling like he was trapped. 

“We don’t know of any, and to try to find them would take time that we don’t have. The Elves of Rivendell are the best chance we have.” Despite knowing this, there was still a grumble in his voice. The Elves treated them moderately well last time - better behaved than his dwarrow, and he felt a twinge of remorse at how he had encouraged them. He knew, rationally, that there was no real animosity between their groups, except for the ages old disdain between the races. 

It still wasn’t his favorite decision he had made so far. 

“You’re not telling us something.” When he looked over, Balin was looking straight ahead, practically glaring a hole in Radagast’s back, and Thorin sighed. He had been right; he couldn’t get away with keeping it from them any longer. 

“You’re right. And I will tell you, but when we get to Rivendell. We don’t have time right now.” 

Dwalin shot him a concerned look. “How do you know?”

In a cruel case of timing, a howl came from their left. “Kili!” The bow was already in his nephew’s arms and the warg was quickly shot down. It’s rider tried to chase after them, but his head was bashed in by Bofur’s war hammer as he passed. “It’s a warg scout! We need to move!” Thorin’s cries spurred the others on, and their ranks closed quickly. 

A glance behind him showed that Bilbo was penned in by the others. Thorin felt as though something came loose in his chest; he would have to thank the others later on for automatically protecting Bilbo. The hobbit met his gaze, wide and worried, and then only slightly reassured at the nod that Thorin gave him. 

“I’ll try to distract some of them!” Radagast broke off from them at Gandalf’s nod. Thorin watched as the Brown Wizard doubled back behind them, drawing attention from no less than seven wargs with his rabbits. That still left a fair amount behind the Company. 

“Gandalf!” Their ponies weren’t going to keep up this pace for long, and the wargs weren’t so far away that Thorin felt comfortable. 

“Not far!” The wizard called back. Thorin could just faintly hear him murmuring something, and he prayed to Mahal that whatever he was saying would prevent them from being captured. 

The rocky hills of the Lone Lands stretched in front of them. Thorin had no idea where the secret entrance to Rivendell was, let alone whatever other entrance there may have been. He did know, however, that his pony was slowing. They had been riding as fast as they could, and though it felt like no time had passed, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been hours. He glanced behind him once more - the pack was closer, and those at the back of the company had their weapons ready. 

A cry pierced the air, and Thorin’s gaze snapped to Kili, who had an arrow protruding from his calf. Suddenly, he had a sick feeling - he had caused that. What he had changed so far had resulted in Kili getting shot with an arrow _again_ and _earlier_. Thorin immediately dropped back, going to Kili’s vulnerable side to offer what protection he could from another arrow. Orcrist was in his hand without his remembering how it had happened, preventing him from reaching out to Kili. 

“I’m alright. I’m alright.” The reassurance did little for Thorin, and it seemed as though Fili looked the same. 

“I thought this was the most direct route?” He yelled. Gandalf glanced back, his gaze landing on Kili while his lips thinned. He opened his mouth to yell back, but what it was Thorin didn’t find out.

A horn sounded. 

From their right, a group of horses crested a hill, seemingly out of nowhere. Their riders were shooting arrows swiftly and with deadly accuracy at the pack trailing the Company. Another moment confirmed that they were elves from Rivendell, Lord Elrond at the front. 

The dark haired Elf nodded at Gandalf before he clashed with the nearest orc, unseating it easily from its warg. “After me,” Gandalf hurried them along, heading straight for a sharp incline in front of them. The pack behind them was distracted with the elves, and the dwarrow were able to put space between them. The sounds of metal on metal and screams of orcs died away as they were led to a ravine. Two Elves were posted at the entrance, their faces impassive as the Company kept close to Thorin, who kept close to Kili and Gandalf. 

The ravine faded away as they continued down a winding trail. Rivendell slowly became visible, all arches and open pathways, incorporating nature as much as possible. Thorin couldn’t conjure up his usual disdain at being confronted with anything so elvish. There was still an arrow sticking out from Kili’s leg, and the sooner they reached the courtyard, the sooner he would know they were safe for a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me or ask me questions about what I'm writing at my [tumblr!](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much to do and so little time for Thorin to do it all! The first days in Rivendell are hectic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll find I've sped up the time they spend in Rivendell, but we're still here for a bit ;)

Thorin had helped Kili get off his pony, with the help of Fili. Oin was immediately by his side, looking his nephew over. It was only the calf, and Kili was trying to make light of it to cheer his brother up, but Thorin couldn’t help but remember the last time. Kili had almost died because of a poisoned arrow. It was only because of an Elf that he didn’t, and Thorin found himself thankful that they were surrounded by elves, for the first time in his long life. 

“Mithrandir!” Thorin looked up at the elf that approached them - the same willow, dark haired elf as last time. 

“Oin,” he knelt next to the healer, letting Gandalf handle the elves for the moment. Even if he knew he had no cause to dislike these particular ones, there was no reason to involve himself. The healer put in his trumpet, his eyes and hands never leaving Kili’s leg. “Make sure you check the arrow for poison.” 

Oin glanced up at him and nodded. “Well, I don’t fancy removing the arrow here. I’m assuming these elves have a healing ward that I can use.” Thorin smirked to himself; Oin wouldn’t let any pointy-eared elves near his nephew, which was appreciated. At least, not unless they were needed. 

“Bilbo.” The hobbit was right next to Kili, trying to offer some distraction to his nephews. He looked up as soon as his name was called and shuffled closer to Thorin, their earlier disagreement behind them for the moment. “Will you interrupt them and ask if we can move to a healing ward?”

“I- Yes, of course. But why me?”

“They’re less likely to dally if you ask.” Bilbo still looked confused, so Thorin added hurriedly. “Elves dislike dwarrow nearly as much as we dislike them. If I ask, I fear that it may be a long while before it’s made ready. I’d rather not have to worry about it, and I can’t imagine that they would deny you.” 

Bilbo clearly didn’t agree but got up quickly and made his way to Gandalf with a shrug. Not a few moments later, two elves bearing a stretcher between them came to get Kili. Thorin sighed as he watched his nephew be taken away, Fili and Oin following behind. He would like to go with them, would like to avoid Lord Elrond and any other elves as long as possible, but that was impossible. Especially as he could hear hooves from behind him. 

“I know this is something we agreed upon before,” Gandalf murmured to him. A glance around showed that none of the other dwarrow were listening, too busy glaring at the elves that were coming into the courtyard. “But I am glad you are putting old animosity to the side.” 

“As much as I’m able. I’m not perfect, Gandalf.” The wizard nodded, his eyes still on Elrond. 

There was a scramble to pull together, Bilbo tugged into the middle of their cluster, but their weapons stayed down. Already an improvement from last time. If things went well, they may not have to sneak out of the valley. If things went perfectly, Thorin may find himself with a new elvish ally. 

He wasn’t holding his breath for that option, but it was something to consider. 

Elrond greeted Gandalf first, and immediately slipped into Sindarin. Thorin couldn’t help but roll his eyes. His gaze landed on Bilbo, though, who was watching the two, his lips barely moving as he concentrated. 

“You can understand them?” Thorin knew that Bilbo could speak some elvish, but it hadn’t been discussed between them yet this time. His words were whispered, close to the leaf-like ear so that maybe the elves couldn’t hear him. Bilbo tensed, and Thorin watched curiously as he seemed to let out a deep breath and will himself to relax. 

“Yes. They’re just discussing the orc pack.” Right as Bilbo answered, Gandalf and Elrond switched back to Westron. The dwarrow around him relaxed, infinitesimally, but at least now they could be sure that plans to lock them away or attack them weren’t being discussed. 

“...Someone has drawn them near,” Elrond was saying. Thorin moved away from Bilbo, his hand squeezing the hobbit’s elbow as he went to the front of their group. Automatically, Dwalin moved next to him.

“That would be us,” Gandalf answered, moving away slightly as though to reveal the Company. As though the elves hadn’t been aware of them before now. Thorin barely resisted rolling his eyes again. As well as they were getting along now, Thorin still found Gandalf’s flair for dramatics annoying and unnecessary. 

“Welcome, Thorin, Son of Thrain.” There was no bow offered to him from the Lord of the Last Homely House, but he wasn’t truly expecting one. 

“Thank you, Lord Elrond.” Thorin made sure to keep his voice steady. Elrond was watching him with narrowed eyes, not quite suspicious but wary enough to rankle Thorin. With an internal sigh, he added: “We are in your debt. You saved us and my nephew is being tended to by some of your elves. We won’t forget it.” 

He had to admit, it was a little gratifying to see surprise evident in immortal eyes. He didn’t think he would ever see such an expression from an elf. Elrond’s lips twitched, and he bowed his head slightly. Thorin was expecting another bout of elvish, which had led to Gloin vaguely insulting Lord Elrond last time, so he was surprised when the Lord stayed in Westron. “You are welcome to stay here while your nephew recovers. Come. We will show you to some rooms, and we’ll have dinner once your Company is settled.”

Lord Elrond turned away, heading up into the large building, and Thorin looked over at Gandalf, who looked far too smug. “Not perfect,” he agreed. “But definitely better.” 

Thorin huffed. “How would you know? _You_ don’t remember.” He could feel Dwalin’s gaze on him - that would have to be addressed as soon as they got to a private place. 

“No, but I can imagine how much worse that could have gone. Come along now, my dwarrow.” The others followed along Gandalf and the elves that were to show them to rooms, as their ponies were led down a separate path. 

Dwalin’s arm prevented Thorin from continuing, and he felt Balin draw up next to him. “What-?” Dwalin started, but Thorin shook his head, quickly interrupting.

“Not here. Once we’re in a room. No one can hear us.” Thorin glanced around them and noted that there were a few elves lingering. His cousins sighed, but nodded, and they quickly rejoined the rest of the company to be shown down winding corridors. There were five rooms spread between the company. Gandalf was given one to himself, and the rest were split between family groupings. Thorin claimed a room for him and his nephews, and the others made it clear that Bilbo would be joining the Durins. 

Dwalin and Balin had taken the next room with Gloin, who would be joined by Oin, but Thorin could still hear them all snickering as Bilbo cocked his head as Thorin offered him an actual invitation, while glaring at the dwarrow that lingered in the hall. 

How Bilbo still seemed to have no idea about his feelings was amazing, with how obvious the rest were making it. “Thank you. I think I’d like that.” Thorin’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he was gratified to see Bilbo’s cheeks turning pink once more. “Well, I’ve noticed that you three snore less than the others.” 

“Ah. So it’s not truly to spend time with us, just so you can get a decent night’s sleep,” he teased over his shoulder as they came into the room. There were two man-sized beds, which would fit the four of them well. “The lads and I will share this one, so you can have that one to yourself.” 

Bilbo looked like he was going to protest for a moment, before he looked at the beds. It was clear that probably five dwarrow could fit in the large bed comfortably. “You spoil me,” the hobbit commented instead, his voice just as teasing.

Thorin was about to reply, wanting to lose himself in the easy banter that he and Bilbo had developed, but there was a knock on the open door. 

“Bilbo, some of the others are being shown to a bathhouse, if you would like to join them?” Balin made it clear that it wasn’t truly a question, but Bilbo looked rapturous about the idea of a bath and so it wasn’t questioned. After assurances that they would take a turn, the hobbit left him alone with his cousins. 

If it wasn’t for how well he knew them, he would worry that they were angry with him. Dwalin was scowling as he made himself comfortable on Bilbo’s bed, while Balin had a disapproving furrow in his brow as he closed the door. “Now, laddie. You’ve been acting odd since we started this quest, but yesterday and today were the worst.” 

Thorin nodded and sat down. “It’s a complicated story. One that you’ll likely not believe.” He hadn’t expected Gandalf to believe him either, but the wizard’s ability to see Mahal’s blessing had helped. His cousins could do no such thing. 

“Just tell us, and we’ll decide that,” Dwalin answered. 

So he did. Thorin explained it the same way he had to Gandalf, not giving away any details about the quest from before, except for what they had already been through. When he spoke about the trolls, he explained how poorly it had gone last time. Dwalin’s and Balin’s faces were stony as they listened, but he knew that meant that he had all their attention, rather than them automatically not believing him. 

“Kili getting shot with an arrow… was new. Last time, we arrived in Rivendell through a different passage, and no one was injured.”

“Wait, you said we needed the elves to know what is hidden in the map. But if you’ve already done this, you already know what it says.” Dwalin’s scowl had gotten worse, and Thorin would have laughed at how it made him look like one of those dogs with the smushed face, if it was a less serious topic. 

“And if you could think of how I could explain that to the others, who I would prefer don’t know that I had died, I am all ears.” 

“But why can’t they know?”

“How did you die, anyway?”

Balin answered Dwalin’s question instead of leaving time for Thorin to pay any attention to the question about his death. Not like he was going to really go into that, anyway. “Because it could change everything. This gives us an advantage, but if we all know too much or we change too much, that advantage could disappear.” 

Thorin nodded, flashing a small smile at his advisor. “That’s pretty much what Gandalf said as well. Just believe when I say that things are going better this time. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that continues. Even making nice with these elves.” 

Dwalin sighed and ran a hand over his bald head. “This is insanity.”

“You seemed to believe me,” Thorin pointed out, surprise coloring his voice. He still couldn’t believe how easy it was to convince his two closest friends, but then, they knew him well too.

“Aye, I do. As difficult as it is, I believe you. I know you would never lie about anything, let alone this quest. That doesn’t mean it isn’t insane.” Thorin nodded; he could certainly admit that. He opened his mouth to remind them that this couldn’t leave this room, but Dwalin cut him off. “We’re not going to tell anyone, you clot.”

Thorin’s mouth snapped closed, and he shot a half-hearted glare at the larger dwarf. Balin still looked as though he was thinking, and only let out a thoughtful hum when Thorin looked at him. “I’m merely wondering- This is how you know Bilbo is your One, isn’t it? There are, of course, instances where dwarrow now almost automatically, but I always assumed that you - sorry, lad - would take much longer to realize it. I was surprised at how confident you were about Bilbo.” 

“Of everything I just told you, you still choose to focus on my love life,” Thorin replied, his voice dry. Balin had the decency to flush, but only offered a shrug. “Yes, that’s how I know. Mahal confirmed it. And you are right, it took me much longer to realize it last time. But that doesn’t mean that I will be rushing him just so that you can line your coin purse.” Balin huffed, but seemed to let it alone for the moment. “Now. You know what I’m comfortable telling you. Let’s go find that bathhouse.” 

By the time they had found it, the others had already been through, which suited them fine, as Balin and Dwalin continued asking questions that he had to dodge. After he had bathed and rebraided his hair, he asked - as politely as he could, to Balin’s infinite amusement - to be shown to the healing houses to see Kili. 

Bilbo, it seemed, had beat him to this. He supposed he shouldn’t have been too surprised; last time, he knew that Bilbo had a lot of affection for his nephews. The affection had been there when they were in Rivendell last time as well, but it seemed to have made just as much progress as Bilbo’s other relationships, if not more. 

“If you keep fussing, I’m going to start calling you Uncle too,” Kili threatened, and Thorin could hear how half-hearted it was from around the corner. The elf that had directed them gave a tiny bow of his head before continuing on. Thorin hesitated, curious about what Bilbo would say, and ignored how doing so resulted in both Balin and Dwalin slapping a hand over their mouths to keep their laughter in check. 

Bastards, the both of them. 

“I’m sorry, would you rather be uncomfortable? Because, by all means, I can stop fluffing your pillow and let you get a crick in your neck.” Even with his cousins laughing at him, Thorin couldn’t help but grin at Bilbo’s familiar tone; the one that made sure everyone knew that he knew he was right and that they were all clearly idiots. “And if calling me uncle makes you feel better, I won’t stop you. I think you might upset your actual uncle though.” 

“You’re kidding. He’d be thrilled.” Fili’s voice was a little too gleeful, and Thorin took that as a sign that he should very quickly make his presence known. 

“Why- Oh, there you are.” Bilbo had caught sight of them as soon as Thorin rounded the corner, and he could only hope that Fili’s comment would be forgotten about. Still, as Thorin drew up next to Kili’s bed, he squeezed Fili’s shoulder tight enough to make his nephew squeak, which he attempted to cover with a cough. 

“How is he, Oin?” Thorin bent over, gently knocking his head to Kili’s. His younger nephew seemed to relax with the gesture, and then quickly remembered that there were other people in the room. He straightened up, looking first at Dwalin and then the elves that were lingering off to the side, and tried to force a stoic expression on his face. There was an expectation with dwarrow that one would never show their weakness in front of others, and Thorin hoped that he wasn’t hiding any discomfort from Oin, at least.

“ _He_ is fine,” Kili answered before Oin could speak on his behalf. “Hardly a graze, and Oin triple checked for poison. I’ll be walking by tomorrow.” 

Thorin raised an amused eyebrow while both Oin and Bilbo sputtered. “You will not!” Oin yelled, and Thorin even caught one of the elves looking at Kili with a furrowed brow. He wasn’t sure elves could even make such an expression; normally he only saw them with impassive expressions. “I said you could maybe walk with a crutch tomorrow!” 

“I could walk right now-!” Thorin put a hand on Kili’s chest to hold him in place, his gaze never wavering from Oin. 

“How long would you recommend before we move on?”

Knowing how badly they all wanted to be away from the elves, Thorin wasn’t surprised when the answer was three days. That was shorter than the last time they had been in the valley, and much as Thorin would like to leave earlier, that wouldn’t be possible. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Kili’s health when they left. “We’ll see what happens.” 

He would have to talk to Gandalf. Leaving before Midsummer could change too many things, as well as adding more lies to the ones that Thorin had to keep track of. At first glance, it seemed like too much of a hassle just to avoid some elves. 

He counted the fact that he was considering voluntarily staying with elves when he didn’t need to as personal growth. 

“Thorin?” He was pulled from his thoughts by Bilbo’s voice, and he let out a questioning hum as he realized that mostly everyone was looking at him. “Are you alright?”

A small smile pulled at his lips, and it took a conscious effort to remember everyone else in the room. It was easy for him to forget, when Bilbo was looking at him like that, with concern and fondness evident on that smooth face. It made him feel like he was the only person who mattered in all of Middle Earth - not because he was a king, but because he was Thorin. Bilbo’s friend. 

“Of course. Just glad that we made it here safely. For the most part,” Thorin answered, glancing pointedly at Kili’s leg. 

“Well, while you weren’t paying attention, I was trying to prove my point that you wouldn’t mind if we called Bilbo uncle,” Kili said, and Thorin barely managed to hide a wince. Apparently, this topic was not going to be forgotten. 

“They seem quite attached to this idea,” Bilbo commented, glancing between his nephews with a confused look. 

“That’s more up to Bilbo.” He barely managed to keep his words from being bitten out, and he narrowed his eyes at Kili, who merely beamed at him. He was saved from the topic continuing by the rest of the company coming in, carrying a few tables between them. “What’s happening?”

“It was suggested we have dinner in here,” Bofur answered, glancing over at the elves that were near to the wall. “Lord what’s-his-name recommended it so we could stay with Kili.”

“Lord Elrond.” A dark haired elf, with green eyes spoke up, though their voice was more akin to a light breeze than a stern correction. 

“Eh?” Oin lifted his ear trumpet towards the elf, and Thorin rolled his eyes. Oin tended to use his deafness whenever it suited him, and Thorin had always been curious if the healer was actual deaf, or it was just a convenient excuse to ignore others. 

“We’ll remember to thank your lord,” Balin cut in smoothly, before Thorin could either rebuke Oin or snark at the soft-spoken elf. He had dealt with too many beings and happenings today, and he could feel his patience fraying. He still had hours ahead of him, and he was suddenly very glad that he had Balin to be diplomatic when he couldn’t. 

“That won’t be necessary.” As one, all the dwarrow tensed. No matter their feelings about elves, it was an unsettling thing to be snuck up on, and more than one hand twitched for a weapon. Thorin met Lord Elrond’s gaze, who he was sure hadn’t missed the movement. “I would rather my guests be comfortable.”

After a moment of hesitation, Thorin nodded at the elf. At least it seemed as though they would not have to suffer through elvish music this time; it had been simpering and torturous, and he was glad to see none of the incoming elves were carrying instruments. Two more small tables were carried in by elves, as well as platters of food. Gandalf motioned for Thorin to join him and Lord Elrond at a separate table, just as last time. 

Thorin let Gandalf do most of the talking. A bone deep tiredness was settling, and it made it difficult for him to participate in, or pay much attention to, the conversation. He assumed Gandalf could tell, as he continually pulled the focus away from Thorin and allowed him to munch on the bowls of leaves in front of him. At least, that was the case until Gandalf mentioned the swords they had found. 

“May I see them?”

Thorin already knew Orcrist’s name, which was all he had been offered last time, but unfastened the sword and scabbard from his belt anyway. There was still reverence as he handed them to Elrond - no matter who had made it or it’s history, Orcrist was his. It still felt like a part of him when it was in his hand, and nothing would change that.

“This is Orcrist. The Goblin Cleaver.” Thorin kept the smirk from his face, not that Elrond would have seen it. His eyes were roving over the gleaming sword. “A famous blade, forged by the high elves of the West. My kin.” After a few more seconds, the blade was in Thorin’s hands once more. “May it serve you well.” 

He had expected Elrond’s focus to move over to Gandalf and Glamdring, but the elf’s eyes stayed on Thorin, curiosity shining in the ageless depths. “You don’t seem surprised,” Elrond added. 

Thorin was actually very surprised, though only by Elrond’s unwavering focus on him, but was only able to conjure the energy to raise an eyebrow. “By the name, or that your kin made it?”

“Either.” 

Thorin glanced at Gandalf, who was watching Elrond with a suspicious look, and being entirely unhelpful to Thorin, as usual. “I could tell that it was well-made. No matter what differences lie between our races, that cannot be denied. To have it confirmed that it was made by high elves is not hard to believe.” 

“Would it surprise you if I told you it was likely used by my great grand-father?” Thorin blinked, not sure what he was supposed to do with that information. “You’re right, it is an excellent sword, one that was likely used by the king of Gondolin - Turgon. I never met him, of course, but I imagine he would be thrilled to know Orcrist had found the hands of a mighty warrior.”

Thorin couldn’t help but blink in surprise again, and this time when he glanced at Gandalf, the wizard’s expression was one of sly amusement. Still not helpful. “You honor me,” he replied. “Thank you.” 

Elrond’s lips quirked and only after he gave Thorin a nod did he turn his attention to the other sword. Thorin felt as though he had passed some sort of test, though he had no idea what it meant. The tiredness was deeper now, and it took a moment for him to remember that part of the reason was because none of them had gotten sleep the night before, nor had they had any opportunity to recover until now.

With that thought, he didn’t feel rude pushing back his chair. “Excuse me. I think we all need to rest from today’s excitement.” Elrond nodded, motioning to some of the elves to start cleaning, while the other dwarrow stood, suddenly looking as exhausted as he felt. “Would it be possible for Kili to sleep in our rooms?”

“Of course. We can bring him, or-”

“I can walk!” Kili cut in, and Thorin watched in a detached amazement as this made the elf smirk. 

“You can help him walk to the rooms?” Elrond suggested, to which Thorin nodded. 

Kili only grumbled a little as he was helped to their rooms by Thorin and Fili. The three of them quickly prepared for bed, and Thorin was unsurprised when both of his nephews pressed so close that they were practically on top of him. It had been a long time since they shared a bed, and he was reminded of how often they had slept just like this when they were in the Blue Mountains. 

Thorin had just about nodded off when the door opened. His eyes snapped open, only to land on Bilbo sneaking into the room, the door closing softly behind him. “Well, isn’t that adorable?” The hobbit’s voice was soft, no more than a whisper, but audible in the stillness of the room. 

“Dwarrow are not adorable,” Thorin murmured quietly, a little gratified at Bilbo’s jump. Clearly, he had expected them all to be asleep. “Where were you?”

“Lindir showed me a night-blooming garden. I met Lord Elrond’s ward there,” Bilbo whispered back, taking a few more steps towards the dwarrow’s bed. 

“Ward?”

“A ten year old boy named Estel. Bright for his age.” Thorin let out a hum. Another thing he hadn’t known. Elrond had likely kept him away from the dwarrow last time. “Anyway. Go to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.” 

Bilbo had only taken a step away when Kili shuffled, pressing his elbow into Thorin’s ribcage. He ignored Thorin’s grunt as he spoke. “Where’re you going?” Somehow, the tired voice managed to sound accusing as he raised his head, narrowed eyes aimed at Bilbo’s bed. 

“My bed?” 

“That’s silly. Stay here.” 

“Now why would I do that? I have a perfectly fine and empty bed over there.”

Thorin looked between the two of them, his own confusion matching Bilbo’s. He could guess at what Kili was doing, and he didn’t know if he should be embarrassed or touched at how his nephew was trying to help bring Bilbo closer to him. Even if it was only physically. 

When Kili answered, Thorin landed on embarrassed, though now he wasn’t sure if it should be for himself or Kili. “Because when I’m hurt, sleeping in my uncle’s bed makes me feel better, and we established earlier that you’re my uncle now too.” 

Thorin was tempted to smack himself in the head. Or Kili in the head. His reasoning made him sound no better than a dwarfling. He could just picture Bilbo storming over to him tomorrow, demanding to understand why Kili seemed so attached to calling him uncle and manipulating him into their family. Before he or Bilbo could decide on a course of action, there was a groan against Thorin’s shoulder, and then Fili spoke. 

“Bilbo, get in the bed so we can all go back to bloody sleep.” 

“I-” The hobbit huffed, and Thorin would have tried to step in, metaphorically, and insist that it wasn’t necessary and to ignore his manipulative nephew. He would have, if it hadn’t been for the expression on Bilbo’s face. He looked torn, yes, but Thorin could see a longing in his eyes, and Bilbo’s gaze hadn’t moved from the empty spot on the pillow, next to Thorin’s head. 

After a moment and a muttering about propriety, Bilbo climbed on to the bed, settling next to Fili. With a pleased hum, Kili settled back down, and Thorin couldn’t help but squeeze his nephew’s shoulder softly in thanks. Not when Bilbo’s head settled right next to his, and he could fall asleep with the sounds of the hobbit’s soft breathing in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on my [tumblr!](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is largely setting up more of the plot(s), but I hope you all enjoy the little moments!

When Thorin woke the next morning, the familiar weight of his nephews was gone from his sides. Instead, there was something tickling his nose, which was what presumably caused him to wake. It took him a few seconds to remember what had happened the night before, to figure out that it was likely Bilbo that was resting next to him. Which meant that it was Bilbo’s leg that his hand was resting on. 

Once again, he wasn’t sure whether he should thank his nephews or throttle them for putting him in a situation where he would likely have to defend himself. No matter his own feelings, Bilbo shouldn’t feel forced to be with him. Thorin let out a sigh and was mentally scolding himself for not pulling back immediately. Even if he knew he didn’t want to pressure Bilbo, Thorin was finding it very difficult to make himself get up. He, apparently, wasn’t strong enough to resist lying in bed with his hobbit. 

That didn’t exactly bode well for the future, considering how much more difficult things were going to get.

“You’re thinking too much.” Thorin tensed as Bilbo murmured, and he looked down at Bilbo. The hobbit’s head was no longer on the pillow he seemed to want so much the night before, and was now entirely on Thorin’s shoulder, his curls sticking out wildly, one of which was directly under Thorin’s nose, moving in time with his breath. 

“How long have you been awake?” Thorin’s voice was scratchy from his sleep. Bilbo shivered and pressed closer to Thorin, and he found it very sad that because of their position he couldn’t take Bilbo into his arms and warm him up properly.

“‘M not awake. Still sleeping.” Thorin chuckled lightly. He wanted to ask Bilbo what was happening, but he was distracted by the way that Bilbo also seemed to be clutching at his arm, at the way that the hobbit tensed as Thorin softly squeezed his thigh, as well as fervently hoping that Bilbo wasn’t actually sleeping. It didn’t seem like it, but this felt too good to be true. “If I was awake, though,” Bilbo added after a moment, “I would say that your nephews left a while ago, muttering about breaking their fast, and not quietly.”

“I would think you know by now that dwarrow are rarely quiet.” 

“I had a hope that that would be different before dawn.”

Thorin hummed to himself, glad that Bilbo couldn’t see his smile. Fili and Kili rarely woke up before they needed to, and the fact that they did so before dawn made fondness swell in his chest. He would thank them later. Assuming they didn’t do anything else to exasperate him. “Thank you for staying with me, then. I know hobbits enjoy their breakfast.”

“It’s still another hour before breakfast for decent folk,” Bilbo grumbled into his chest. “Besides- You’re comfortable. Especially when Fili isn’t kicking me.” 

“I had hoped he would eventually grow out of that. Better you than me,” Thorin replied, the grin growing as that caused Bilbo to rise up onto his elbows to shoot a glare at the dwarf.

“That’s nice! Tonight you get to be behind Fili then.” Thorin raised an eyebrow, and he was sure he looked ridiculously pleased at the assumption that Bilbo would be joining them again. “I mean, if-”

“Peace, Bilbo. I’m sure I’m not the only one that would prefer you stay with us.” Bilbo’s gaze stayed on him for another moment, as though trying to figure out a particularly difficult riddle, before he laid down once more. Thorin caught his bottom lip between his teeth, considering speaking up and ignoring the way his heart was pounding in his chest. “Lift up your head,” he asked softly.

The hobbit did so, though it was mainly to shoot Thorin a questioning glance. Still, it allowed him to move his arm to wrap it around Bilbo’s back. The confused look was now mixed with something else, making Bilbo’s eyes softer, the grey reminding him of the cloudy, windy days that Thorin preferred. “You said we have another hour before breakfast. We may as well sleep longer.” 

Bilbo smiled and nodded. “I’m sure my stomach will wake us when it’s ready.” Thorin couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Bilbo’s stomach being loud enough to wake up a dwarf, and he watched fondly as Bilbo made himself comfortable, pillowing his head on Thorin’s chest. He had no idea what was happening, no idea if Bilbo had feelings for him or if he was being particularly friendly and comfortable, but he found himself hesitant to ask. Rather, he started planning as sleep fell over him once more. He could make Bilbo aware of his own feelings, and go from there. They were Ones, he had to remind himself, that had been confirmed by Mahal himself. 

~*~*~*~

The second time he awoke, he felt that he shouldn’t have been surprised that it was, indeed, to a loud rumbling against his side. “Oh, Mahal,” he breathed, his laughter evident and only growing as Bilbo groaned and pressed his face into Thorin’s chest. 

“Told you.” The pleasant weight of Bilbo disappeared as the hobbit sat up and ran a hand, pointlessly, through his wild curls. “Come on. I wanted to explore some more before we leave.”

“I think we have a few days yet,” he replied, rolling out of the bed regardless. “Where were you wanting to go?”

“Lindir mentioned the library yesterday.” Thorin blinked at Bilbo, watching as the hobbit tried to straighten his appearance to somewhere near respectable. “Though, that might have to wait until after another bath. Might as well take advantage of those while we have them. Would you want to come with me?”

“To… bathe?” That might be pushing his resolve a bit more than he would like. It was one thing to cuddle on the bed, but there was no way to hide his, uh, regard for the hobbit if they were in a bath together. 

Not that he could really deny how very much he wanted that.

“Wha- Oh! No. The library.” Thorin nodded and turned back to fastening Orcrist on to his belt. That was a little less anxiety provoking, and it catered nicely to what Thorin had wanted to do. 

After they ate, they made their way to the library. It was smaller than he might have expected, certainly smaller than the memory of the library in Erebor. Still, he had to hope that they had some tomes on hobbits, since they were closer to the Shire. Though, considering how surprised some of the elves had been at seeing Bilbo, he wasn’t sure if anything he found would really be accurate. The logical option would be to just ask Bilbo, but there was no way to do so without explaining _why_. 

After wandering the shelves for a while, unable to find much, he was about ready to give up. His annoyance at a seemingly fruitless search wasn’t helped by the knowledge that he was being followed by an elf. He assumed they were in charge of keeping the library orderly, and they always stayed a shelf or so behind him, but it still was very obvious what was happening. It made Thorin’s anger feel like it was crawling up his throat, and he felt that he was very close to having words with the blasted elf.

Until he spotted Ori. 

It was like he had been hit over the head, but instead of pain, there was a feeling of bliss as he realized that he could get Ori’s help with his problem about hobbits. 

“Ori. Ori.” The scribe looked up from the book he was reading, a dazed look in his eye until he recognized Thorin.

“Oh! Sorry,” the young dwarf scrambled up, an embarrassed flush tainting his cheeks. “Did you need something, your majesty?”

“Well, for you to call me Thorin would be a good start,” he replied gently. It wasn’t the first time had asked Ori, as well as his brother, to call him by his outer name, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. “I could also use your help with something.” 

Ori nodded, his little braids swinging with the motion. “What do you need, your- Thorin?”

Thorin flashed the other dwarf a small smile before he glanced over his shoulder. He could see the elf at the far end of the shelves. He had to assume that they weren’t trying to actually hide, and he couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. There was also the fact that Bilbo was wandering the shelves somewhere as well, which caused him to feel as though it was very unsafe to speak about his favor here.

“Walk with me?” Ori glanced over Thorin’s shoulder, and scowled before he nodded. He was reminded of just how fierce the sons of Ri were, all of them incredibly loyal in their own ways. Thorin clapped a hand over the younger dwarf’s shoulder and led them out of the library where they could speak more freely, without being overheard by elves, or even Bilbo. 

Once they were far enough away, Thorin leaned against a banister, his eyes drawn to the nearby waterfall. Rivendell was pretty, he could admit that. He may even admit that to Lord Elrond at some point, but he couldn’t help but think how much better the waterfall would look in a mountain, seemingly coming out of nowhere, as the fall in the deep levels of Erebor had.

“Thorin?”

“Right.” Ori leaned on the bannister next to him, nervously twirling a quill nib between his fingers. Thorin had a feeling that he could give Ori a coin, and it would roll over those knuckles, just as Nori tended to do. The thought made a smile pull at his lips. “I was trying to find anything in that library about hobbits,” he revealed quietly. 

He wasn’t surprised to see that made Ori grin. He was tempted to ask how much the younger dwarf had in the betting pool. “About hobbit courting?” Thorin rolled his eyes, but nodded. Ori’s smile only grew, and the question was on the tip of Thorin’s tongue. Ori spoke again before it could get out. “They don't have anything. The book that I was reading was the closest I could find, but it was only about how hobbits use flowers to communicate, as a sort of language.”

Thorin blinked at Ori, who had gone back to twirling the nib, though it looked more self-satisfied than nervous now. “Thank you, Ori.” The other dwarf nodded, shooting him a small smile. 

“I think that you and Master Baggins fit well together. He’s your One, isn’t he?” Thorin nodded, a little dumbstruck at being so obvious, not only about his feelings but the plan he had just thought of last night, and that Ori had beaten him to it. “Well, unfortunately the elves don’t have much, like I said. But! I could always ask Bilbo.”

“Oh, I don’t think that- I mean, he would know-”

“Maybe eventually,” Ori cut him off, nodding. Thorin was too amused at how quickly the proprietary that Dori insisted on his brothers was shedded to comment further. “But I could ask him questions about hobbits to put in the tale of the quest. You know, to give background information on him or something. At least, that is what he would think.” 

Thorin hummed, his fingers trailing over the stone of the bannister as he thought. “That may work. You wouldn’t mind lying to him?”

“It’s not lying,” Ori corrected. “I would add some of that information, and I can’t know what I would want to add until I write. Besides, I do figure that writing about hobbit courting customs will make its way in there,” he added, shooting Thorin a pointed smirk. It was amazing to see how much both of Ori’s older brothers had influenced the young dwarf. 

“How much money do you have on the bet, Ori?” Thorin’s question was colored by his laughter, which only got stronger as Ori had the good grace to duck his head. 

“Not much. But if you could be courting by the time we cross the mountains, you would make me a lot richer.” 

Thorin snorted to himself, but nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

For a few moments, they stood, looking at the waterfall - Thorin described the one that was in Erebor, which Ori agreed sounded better than the one in front of them - and speaking about what particulars they would need to know about courting customs. It was agreed that Ori would copy some information from the book on flower language before they left, as they both assumed that flowers featured heavily into hobbits’ courtings. 

The sound of footsteps drew their attention, and they looked over to see Gandalf approaching. “Thorin! I was looking for you. Could we speak?” 

Thorin raised an eyebrow but nodded, and Ori offered a bow before stepping away. “I’ll just go get started on that information.” Thorin smirked and nodded in thanks before shifting his focus to the wizard. 

“What do you need?” Gandalf made it clear that he would prefer to speak in a more private space, and nodded for Thorin to follow him across a small footbridge. There was a bench in a secluded space, hidden from the Homely House, and close enough to the waterfall that anyone hoping to eavesdrop would have to be very close. 

“You asked me to be more forthcoming with information, and now is an opportunity for me to do so. I have asked Lord Elrond to call a council meeting, of those who are tasked to protect Middle Earth from the likes of Sauron. It will happen tonight, and I would like you to be there.” 

Thorin had not been expecting Gandalf to be so direct, despite his wish for it. Normally, the wizard spoke in mind bending riddles that only barely touched on the point, though it was usually realized weeks later. He supposed he had to appreciate the forthrightness, even if it was surprising. “Is that wise? To tell more people about me? I assume that is why I would be there.”

“Lord Elrond already suspects something. He can not see Mahal’s blessing as clearly as I can-” Thorin had questions about that; was it because Gandalf was a wizard? He knew Elrond had some sort of magical abilities about him. Thorin rather assumed that if the blessing was able to be seen at all, it would be recognized. Gandalf continued, unaware of Thorin’s train of thought, or uncaring. “But he knows that something is different about you. And yes, I would like to tell them. Part of the reason I exist here at all is to help defeat Sauron. What Mahal told you about the ring was so that we would work together.”

Thorin nodded; that much was true. “What will we tell the others? About why we’re meeting?”

Gandalf shrugged, his gaze on the waterfall, much the way that Thorin’s had been before. “Tell them that Lord Elrond is examining the map.” Thorin smirked to himself, which caused Gandalf to raise an eyebrow. “Is that unbelievable?”

“Not at all. It’s what happened last time. The two of us, as well as Balin and Bilbo met with Lord Elrond, and he was able to read it. Though, I do not think he will truly be able to read it until tomorrow. It could only be read by the light of Midsummer's Eve’s moon.”

“Ah. Moon runes.” Gandalf hummed and nodded to himself. “Well, to them, the meeting tonight will reveal that, and then they can all be there tomorrow when it’s read.”

“I should tell you. Balin and Dwalin know the truth. They figured out that something was different.” 

Gandalf nodded, his fingers combing through his beard absentmindedly. “I can hardly be upset about that. You need to be able to confide in those you trust, and I am asking you to confide in strangers. They believed you?”

“Or they think I’m mad and they’re humoring me,” he replied drily. Gandalf let out a huff of laughter. “Who else will be at this meeting?”

“I’m not very sure. It depends on who is able to make it on such short notice. There are ways to travel quickly over the land. I assume that the Lady Galadriel will be there,” Gandalf murmured, and Thorin didn’t miss the way his lips quirked into a smile. The wizard seemed to notice the confused expression on his face, but didn’t seem to guess at what had put it there as he added, “Of Lothlorien. If she is fond of you, she will be your biggest supporter, so I would hope you would be on your best behavior.”

Thorin snorted, rolling his eyes. “You speak as though I’m twenty five.” 

“Can you say that you were on your best behavior when you were here last?” He sighed, and could feel a mulish expression flash across his face as Gandalf nodded to himself. “The only other members are Cirdan, who lives far to the west and rarely leaves his shores, and Saruman the White.” 

“Another wizard?”

“Indeed. I am unsure if he will make it. He is in Isengard, typically. The most important thing is to just tell your story, Thorin, just as it happened. I will be there to help you.” 

Thorin sighed to himself, his eyes returning to the roaring water once more. “You think they will support the quest, if they know that it is Mahal’s will?”

“I have no doubt about that.”

“You were just as sure of the opposite, last time.” 

“It is different now.” Gandalf rested a hand on Thorin’s shoulder. He wasn’t looking forward to this meeting. Being surrounded by - what Bilbo called them - Big Folk was something that he was used to, but it wasn’t preferred, and he knew that his irritation would be close to the surface. It was even worse that he would be the only dwarf. Even knowing that Gandalf would be on his side wasn’t enough to truly make him feel confident.

“You’ll come get me when it’s time?” he asked, rising to his feet. Gandalf nodded and let him go. Despite sleeping so well the night before, he was already feeling exhausted at the thought of the meeting. On his way back to the room, he entertained the thought of asking Bilbo to join him for a nap.

Unfortunately, he didn’t run into his hobbit on the way back to the room and had to content himself with a nap against a pillow that he imagined still carried Bilbo’s scent. It was only a few hours of sleep before Balin found him. On their way to the dining hall once more, Thorin told him what he had discussed with the wizard. His advisor agreed to telling the others about the fake meeting with the Lord Elrond, and that assurance that they would likely be leaving the valley within two days. That should settle any nerves. 

Thorin had ended up at a table with Bilbo by his side, and the hobbit spoke about the books he had found in the library as they ate. The hobbit had managed to run into Estel once more - who was seated next to Lord Elrond at a different table - and Bilbo was telling Thorin about some of the tales he had told the young boy, including a rather light-hearted rendition of their run in with the trolls. Thorin and his nephews all had grins on their face at how funny Bilbo had managed to make the story.

“Master Oakenshield,” one of Elrond’s elves drifted over, interrupting Bilbo describing the _silly_ sounds that had managed to distract the trolls. Thorin frowned up at the dark haired elf. “My lord has requested you join him after dinner.” 

The meeting with the council. Thorin nodded, suddenly no longer hungry - not that he had greatly enjoyed his plate of grass. The dark haired elf - Lindir, Bilbo had called him as they said goodbye - left, and Bilbo waved off the rest of the tale. “You all were there. You can imagine how I changed the ending for Estel’s benefit. Now, eat up.” Fili and Kili grumbled but pointedly took a crunchy bite. Bilbo leaned over and pressed his shoulder against Thorin’s before he murmured, “You suddenly look like you would rather dump that bowl over Lindir’s head. Why does Lord Elrond want to speak with you?”

It was difficult, when Bilbo asked those sorts of questions, to not admit to everything. His death, his feelings for Bilbo, the truth about the ring that they had yet to find. He knew he couldn’t though. Telling Dwalin and Balin had been a big enough risk. Thorin sighed, offering the hobbit a small smile. “I assume to read the map that Gandalf has told him about.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? We’ll figure out how to get into your mountain.”

Thorin nodded, glancing over at the boys. Both of them were leaning close, whispering to each other, much the same way that Thorin and Bilbo were doing. At least they weren’t listening. He grasped for another explanation for his sour expression, one that would not cause the truth to come spilling out. “It is, but- I know you don’t understand the animosity between dwarrow and elves-”

“Ah. You don’t want the elves to know how to get in?”

Thorin blinked, and he felt an indignant frown pull at his lips at the idea of any elves of Rivendell going anywhere near his mountain. As though they would be able to find the secret passage way before he and his company did. Or that they would kill the dragon. For a moment, he was lost in this vein of thought, until he caught sight of the way that Bilbo was grinning. “You did that on purpose.” 

“I did. I hoped to highlight how silly that idea was, if that was what you were thinking.”

He snorted, shaking his head slightly. “It is not that, thank you. Merely that- The map is an heirloom of my people. It was entrusted to me, and not even a wizard could read it. I know that Lord Elrond can help us, but I am still hesitant about an outsider knowing what it hides.”

He knew, as soon as he spoke, that was the wrong word to use. Almost immediately, Bilbo’s expression shut off, even as he nodded and turned back to his bowl of greens. Thorin let his eyes drift close for a moment as he scolded himself. Wasn’t he all too aware of how hard Bilbo had worked to ingratiate himself with the company, to _not_ be considered an outsider, both times? “I didn’t mean- Bilbo, you are one of us.”

“I’m not though,” the hobbit replied automatically. “I may be part of the company, and you all have accepted me, but I’m not a dwarf. There’s no point denying that. It’s fine, Thorin. I know what you mean.” 

“No, I-” Thorin’s sigh almost came out more like a growl, and he glanced over the boys, who were nearly glaring at him for upsetting Bilbo. He couldn’t blame them. If it was possible, he would likely glare at himself as well. “Come with me.” He rose and held out a hand for Bilbo. For a few seconds, he worried that Bilbo would deny him, would send him off to the meeting with a polite farewell and then sleep in his own bed that night.

When a small hand slipped into his, he let out a quiet sigh of relief, and then proceeded to lead Bilbo from the room. Once they were in the deserted hallway, he came to a stop to face the hobbit. “You are one of us. You have already proven yourself to us, and there is nothing about this quest that I would keep from you-” This particular quest, anyway, he silently added. “You will be there whenever the information about the map is revealed. I swear.” 

Bilbo ducked his head, and Thorin bent his own to try to get the hobbit to meet his eyes. “I’m sure you think I’m being silly. I know I’m just a hobbit-”

“You are many things, Bilbo Baggins, but _just a hobbit_ is not one of them.” 

He wasn’t sure what it was about his words that caused Bilbo to flush like that, but he certainly didn’t mind. “You all haven’t treated me as just a hobbit since we left Bree. You’ve accepted me as one of your own. Hearing you speak about outsiders, though, just reminds me that I am one.” 

Thorin hesitated - he knew of two ways that would allow Bilbo to be treated just as any other dwarf. One of them would be marriage, which would almost definitely happen in the future, but he knew he shouldn’t offer it right then, when there hadn’t been any mention of his feelings. The other- He raised a hand, fingering the end of Bilbo’s curls. Bilbo’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull back. “With your permission, Master Baggins, I would declare you a dwarf-friend,” he explained, his eyes still on the russet lock between his fingertips. “That way anyone who sees you will know and accept you. As one of us.” 

Bilbo swallowed, and Thorin finally tore his gaze away to watch at how the apple in his throat bobbed. “I’m assuming there is a braid for that?” Thorin nodded, dropping his hand. “Is my hair even long enough? I wasn’t- I mean, I’m honored, but I don’t want you to do this just because you want to make me feel better.”

“That’s not why I’m doing it. As I’ve said, you’ve proven yourself to us, and you will share much more with us once we leave Rivendell. As for your hair; it will hold a braid. It will be short, but any dwarf who sees it will know.” Bilbo nodded, a small but pleased smile stealing across his lips. Thorin couldn’t help but smile softly back, and he was sure that it would be evident to any who saw them just how fond he was of the hobbit in front of him. 

He led Bilbo to a nearby bench, not without making a comment at just how lazy the elves have to be to have so many benches around, and had Bilbo turn away from him so that Thorin could place the braid behind one pointed ear. They were both quiet, treating it as the special moment that it was. Thorin let out a pleased hum as he looked at it, and couldn’t help but wish that it was a courting braid instead. 

Soon. Behind the hobbit’s right ear, there would be a courting braid soon enough.

Hopefully.

“There. Shall we go show it off?” Thorin pulled Bilbo back to his feet, and was about to head back to dinner when a gentle touch to his arm made him hesitate. 

Bilbo looked nervous, his feet shuffling, and Thorin tilted his head questioningly. After a few seconds, a familiar look of determination appeared instead and the hobbit quickly closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s waist. “Thank you,” Bilbo said, the words muffled against Thorin’s tunic. The dwarf hugged him back tightly after a brief hesitation.

“Of course, _ghivashel,_ ” he murmured. Bilbo leaned back, a confused furrow on his brow, but Thorin merely smiled and pulled away, guiding the way back to the dining hall wordlessly. The endearment had slipped out, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it back, but neither could he explain it just yet. There was too much to do right now. 

Thorin was unsurprised when all the dwarrow fell silent as they reentered the room. There were more than a few of his company craning their heads, trying to spot just what braid had been put in Bilbo’s hair. When it was figured out, the company got up and congratulated Bilbo, mainly with arm pats and gentle headbutts, some of them more hesitant and surprised than others. Balin nodded approvingly at Thorin, and he was relieved that his advisor approved of Bilbo being made a dwarf-friend just as much as he was relieved about not having to answer about why it wasn’t a courting braid. 

Gandalf motioned to him, and Thorin reluctantly left the now jubilant company. It was time to meet this council.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The White Council, and then a much needed chat with Bilbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for their comments. I can't say how lovely they are or how motivating. I will be honest, I have the next two chapters written and just waiting to be edited, but after that things may slow down. I'm trying to remain ahead, but Thursday my mom passed away unexpectedly and my motivation waxes and wanes. So thank you for your future patience <3

They entered an open aired dome that the elves seemed so fond of. Thorin thought it was impractical for such an important meeting, but he kept this opinion to himself. Rivendell was crawling with elves and what he had seen showed that there was very little actual privacy. This was likely the best they could do. 

At first, Thorin didn’t see anyone else after they entered, though Gandalf tensed at his side and spoke in elvish. Thorin looked around and spotted the elf that had been on the outside stairs. That must be the Lady, then. He glanced over at Elrond and saw that he was looking between Gandalf and Lady Galadriel with an amused smirk on his face. He met Thorin’s confused glance and minutely shook his head, which only caused Thorin to frown more. 

“May I introduce Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror?” Gandalf spoke in Westron once more as he gestured to Thorin. The lady glided down the steps, her gaze wavering between his shoulder and his eyes. She could see the blessing then.

“Will you tell us your story?” Thorin nodded, offering a slight bow. He had been prepared to do just that, to offer the same story he had told Gandalf and the sons of Fundin. Before he could make a move to the table to sit down, a deep voice came from the shadows. 

“It has been a long time since a dwarf was in Imladris, let alone at a meeting of the White Council.” 

He couldn’t explain it, but that deep voice put him on guard, even as he spun to face it. A tall man, all in white, appeared from behind a pillar. Gandalf’s hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed tightly. When Thorin glanced up at him, he was surprised to see that the pleasant smile on his face did not come anywhere close to reaching his eyes. “Saruman,” Gandalf offered a tiny bow to the other wizard, whose eyes had not left Thorin. “Thorin's story is important for us to hear. Surely you can see that.” 

“We will see.” The white wizard moved to the table, and after a moment, the rest of the males followed. Lady Galadriel stayed standing, near the steps, watching them. Of any of them, Thorin thought that he would be more put off by her; he had a feeling that her gaze saw too much, even past a Vala’s blessing. But it was the new wizard that made Thorin suspicious, and he couldn’t put a finger on why. 

Once seated, he started his tale again. How he had died in battle after reclaiming Erebor, and how Mahal had come to him and revealed that dying and what had led up to it wasn’t part of his plan. How he had been offered a second chance to do better and to accomplish his destiny. 

“So you believe that reclaiming Erebor is your destiny,” Saruman questioned, the sneer evident in his voice even if it was not on his face. Thorin’s irritation sparked once more. 

He glanced at the others. Gandalf was watching Saruman, with a resigned look of disappointment. Elrond looked deep in thought, and the Lady Galadriel… She was watching him. As soon as their gazes met, she offered a small smile, and it took everything in Thorin’s power to not react as he heard her voice in his head. _There is more, is there not?_

Automatically, Thorin thought of what Mahal had revealed about Bilbo, about finding the Ring and how they were to destroy it. Galadriel’s eyes widened slightly, and she glanced at the back of Saruman’s head, who was still making it clear that he didn’t believe a word Thorin had said. _Do not mention that yet_ , her voice appeared in his head once more. _I would not have him know the Ring will be found so soon._

“Whether you believe me or not, that is my tale,” Thorin interrupted Saruman’s rant. He glanced over at Gandalf, who was watching Galadriel, and he was almost certain they were now having a silent conversation. 

“You will wake the dragon and bring ruin on us all,” Saruman shot back. 

Thorin’s hands clenched into fists and he glared at the wizard. “Have you not been listening? Clearly, Smaug was killed before, and fairly quickly I might add. I will not reveal how,” he said to Gandalf, who opened his mouth to protest. At Thorin’s reassurance, he quieted once more. “I have hope that we will be able to do so even faster this time.”

“Smaug will have to be dealt with, no matter what. He could be too easily swayed to the side of the enemy,” Gandalf added. 

“What enemy? Gandalf, the enemy is defeated. Sauron is vanquished. He can never again regain his full strength.” 

Thorin looked between the two wizards, wondering how Gandalf was going to explain his reasoning without mentioning the ring. He caught Galadriel’s eye again, and she nodded slightly, _trust him_. 

Gandalf hesitated and then leaned forward, gravity soaking his voice. “Does it not worry you that the last of the dwarf rings has simply vanished, along with its bearer?” Thorin tensed, unable to keep a glare off his face. His father, and the ring that he bore, had been missing since the Battle of Azanulbizar, and Thorin had never been able to give up hope that he was still alive somehow. If he had gone into the Halls… he would have gotten confirmation, but it would have been too late to do anything if his father was alive. He shook his head slightly. He made the right decision, and he felt it deep in his bones that his father was alive. 

“Of the seven dwarf rings, four were consumed by dragons, two were taken by Sauron before he fell in Mordor. The fate of the last dwarf ring remains unknown. The ring that was born by Thrain-”

“Without the ruling ring of power, the seven are of no value to Sauron,” Saruman interjected. Thorin met Galadriel’s gaze again, mainly in a hope of not revealing anything about the ring to Saruman. He didn’t know what sort of powers the white wizard had, and he hoped that they were nothing like Galadriel’s. “To control the other rings, he needs the One.” 

Thorin’s gaze shifted to Saruman, noting the reverent tone he spoke of the Ring with. It was a tone he was familiar with, like a cold caress. There was a fondness there, a longing, that Thorin had not heard for over a century and a half. It reminded him of his grandfather, and how he had spoken of his hoarded treasure before Smaug came. How Thorin himself had spoken of the Arkenstone. 

_You see it now,_ Galadriel whispered to him again, and he nodded jerkily. All of Saruman’s attention was on Gandalf anyway. _Whenever the ring is brought up, he sounds covetous. I fear he will fall to the enemy._

Thorin sighed, his attention shifting to the stone table beneath his fingertips as Saruman commented on how the ring had been lost. 

“I do not believe we are in a peaceful time any longer, and I have proof.” Gandalf pulled a package from his robes. Thorin recognized it as the package that Radagast had passed over when they were still in the Trollshaws. “There is something at work. Something far more powerful than Smaug, and I do not want them to align.” The package was opened, and Thorin recoiled. It was a blade, finely made, but it felt wrong, even without him touching it. It radiated a foul energy that reminded him of the tainted gold once more. 

“Where did you find this?” Galadriel spoke aloud, drawing closer as she examined the blade. Thorin rose from his chair, both to give more room for the others to examine the blade as well as to get away from it. “A Morgul blade, made for the Witch-king of Angmar. And buried with him.” 

“Radagast found it in Dol Guldur. He said a necromancer was hidden in the shadows.”

“Radagast. That foolish fellow,” Saruman scoffed. “This necromancer he told you of is no more than a mortal man, dabbling in black magics.” The wizard’s words sounded far too casual for the evil thing that sat in front of them. If Thorin hadn’t been suspicious of him earlier, he would have been now. 

“Surely it’s worth investigating?” he asked, watching Saruman carefully. The white wizard didn’t even bother to look over at him, and Thorin couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

“It is,” Elrond answered, nodding to Thorin. “This should not be possible. A powerful spell lies on those tombs. They cannot be opened.”

Saruman shook his head, rising slowly. “We have no proof this came from Angmar’s grave. Merely the word of a wizard whose brain is addled by his frequent consumption of mushrooms. There is little to speak of here. This dwarvish quest however, troubles me. I do not believe I can condone such a task. I trust you will see sense before it is too late.”

With a pointed look, Saruman swept from the room, and Thorin felt himself relax as soon as the white wizard was no longer visible. Silence descended around them as Gandalf covered the blade once more. He handed the sword to Elrond who put it in a cupboard across the room; only then did Thorin return to the table. Galadriel took Saruman’s abandoned seat, and let her eyes close for a moment. 

“He’s gone,” she confirmed, and then Gandalf and Elrond relaxed into their seats. 

“What is this about the Ring?” Elrond asked, looking between the three of them.

Gandalf nodded at Thorin, who took a deep breath before speaking. “I know where it is. Part of Mahal’s plan for me was to help destroy the ring after Erebor is reclaimed.”

“Where-?”

“It will be found soon,” Gandalf cut in, shaking his head slightly. “The less people who know its exact location, the better. Even Thorin doesn't know exactly, he merely knows how it will be found.”

Galadriel looked over at him, one eyebrow raised slightly. 

“My hobbit, er, burglar, Bilbo, will find it.” 

“Your One,” she clarified, and Thorin didn’t feel like he was making up the amused tilt to her lips. 

He nodded, trying to ignore the irritation he felt crawling up his spine at the idea that his love would be amusing to anyone. It was one thing to be teased by his company, but to see the knowing smirks on blasted elves faces was more than he could swallow. “It is Bilbo’s destiny to destroy the ring. Mahal said that hobbits seemed to be more resistant to its power. I’m to help him after Smaug is defeated.”

Gandalf nodded while Elrond seemed to be lost in thought, his gaze trained without seeing on the cupboard that held the Morgul blade. “What about Dol Guldur? Despite what Saruman wants to believe, it is highly unlikely this Necromancer is anyone but Sauron.” 

“We will need to launch an attack. Drive him out,” Gandalf suggested, looking between the two elves. Thorin did as well, trying to think of how such an attack would impact his quest, though-

“That’s where you went last time,” he murmured. Both elves turned their attention back to the dwarf, Gandalf following a few seconds later. Thorin’s looked between them all, and he let out a soft huff. “We went through Mirkwood, on a tiny path. Gandalf left us at the entrance of it, saying that he was needed elsewhere. You headed South,” he added, raising an eyebrow. “You went to Dol Guldur?”

Gandalf hummed, nodding his head. “It’s very likely, if Radagast provided the blade before as well. We cannot allow Sauron to build more power.”

Galadriel made a small motion, merely drawing her fingertip across the stone table, but the others, Thorin included, quieted and turned their attention to her. “You cannot come, Gandalf.” 

“My Lady-” Gandalf started, indignation clear on his face. 

“Someone needs to stay with the Ring, to make sure that it is not discovered before it can be destroyed by Bilbo Baggins. We will go to Dol Guldur while you stay with Master Oakenshield’s Company.” 

Gandalf sat back and after a moment, nodded in agreement. Thorin couldn’t help but be thankful, even while he worried that without the wizard, Sauron would stay in Mirkwood. He had no idea how that might impact their ability to destroy the Ring, and not for the first time, he wished that he had asked Mahal more about it. 

“Will it just be the two of you then? To go to Dol Guldur?”

“Saruman will not come, most likely,” Elrond noted, shrugging a bit carelessly. Thorin couldn’t say he was surprised to see that there was no love lost between Saruman and the rest of the council. “Radagast will, however. Celeborn?” Galadriel dipped her head in assent. “Thranduil should be made aware as well, if he is not already. He may want to join us.” 

“That’s not very likely,” Thorin grumbled. While he may have been trying to give these particular elves some benefit of the doubt, and to move past the ingrained hatred, he could not do so with Thranduil. The king of Mirkwood had not endeared himself to Thorin last time, and he had no reason to believe it would be any different this time. “He will leave his halls for nothing.” 

Just thinking of that blonde ponce fueled him with a restless energy that was better suited to a battle than a council meeting, and he rose from his chair to go to the stairs that Galadriel had previously occupied. “Did something happen, last time?” Gandalf called out to him. 

“Yes.” Thorin looked out over the valley, struck again by it’s odd beauty. “If I cannot tell you the details, believe me when I tell you that he is as unreliable as he was a century and a half ago when Smaug came.” 

Galadriel hummed, and Thorin felt that he should have been unsurprised at how quickly she appeared at his side, despite not hearing even the scraping of her chair. “He did not offer his assistance to battle Smaug for you.” 

Thorin scoffed, his irritation spiking once more, though it was no longer directed at the Lady. “Everyone assumes my ire is because of that. Even I know that his army could not bring down Smaug, not when the beast was drowning in gold lust. I didn’t ask for that,” he explained, looking up at her. He didn’t know if she was in his mind once more, but he thought of the memory anyway. He could picture well, with how often he had felt the sting of betrayal from someone he counted as an ally. Seeing Thranduil with his army over the hill that separated their kingdoms, Thorin calling out to him. The hurt that surged in him as Thranduil turned his army away, literally turning their backs on the dwarrow. “I asked for help. For assistance or healing for my injured people. Even shelter in that tainted forest. He turned his back on us. We have been given more grace from the Elves of Rivendell than we have ever received from Thranduil. You cannot trust him.”

A deep sigh came from the table and he looked over at Elrond. “I am sorry for how the dwarrow of Erebor were treated. It may not mean much now, but if Erebor was a closer neighbor to Rivendell, we would have helped your recovery.” Thorin nodded sharply, feeling a pang of regret. He hadn’t even entertained the idea of seeking out different elves while they were wandering. Being rejected by Thranduil, who was supposed to be his ally, had been enough. Who knows how many he could have saved if he had tried?

“It does not dwell to think of what could have been in the past,” Galadriel murmured from beside him. “Mahal said that you did your best, and you did. Now you can again.” Thorin sighed, and with a last glance at the Lady, turned back to the table. 

“Is there anything else we need to discuss? I’m not able to provide much more input without giving away too much.” Gandalf nodded and gestured vaguely towards the exit with his pipe, his eyes glazed over in thought. Thorin turned to Elrond, “You will be able to read the map tomorrow night, which I was hoping you could read before the others. We would leave the day following.”

“Understandable. We will replenish your stores-”

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t. It would be a waste.” Elrond’s brows furrowed, and Thorin smiled grimly. “I’ll say that it would be lost within a week, with the path we must follow.” 

Both the elves let out a thoughtful hum, and Thorin decided that was an appropriate time to make his leave, before he got brought into another limited conversation. Thorin offered a bow before making his way out of the dome. Once he was across a long bridge, he looked around, not quite sure how to get back to his rooms from where he was. 

The dark haired elf, Lindir, appeared a little ahead of him, and dipped his head in greeting. “I can show you to your room, if you’re ready.” Thorin nodded and followed, glad that the elf didn’t try to chat with him, and silence settled between them for the duration of the long walk back to the room he shared with Bilbo and his nephews. 

Moonlight filtered through the open windows and revealed that Bilbo was in the Durins’ bed once more. Both he and Fili were bracketing Kili, whose leg was propped up on a pillow. A small smile pulled at Thorin’s lips, and he felt himself truly relax for the first time that night as he looked at them for another moment. Quickly and quietly, he divested himself of his layers until he was only in trousers and a tunic before he crawled into bed next to Bilbo. 

He had only just curled himself around his burglar’s smaller form when Bilbo shuffled, pressing back into Thorin’s embrace. “Thorin?” The whisper hovered over them, and Thorin hesitated to answer, not wanting his nephews to wake. 

“Sleep, Bilbo. I’ll explain in the morning.” The hobbit let out a low murmur, and it wasn’t a minute later that Thorin heard his breathing become deep and even again in sleep. The dwarf smiled to himself and rested his head against the pillow, his nose buried in the riotous curls. They would need to have a talk about their sleeping arrangement and what it might mean for them, but that was another thing that could wait until the morning.

~*~

The next morning found Thorin alone in bed. Most of the company, all except Bilbo, were out on a nearby balcony, cooking sausage over a small fire. “Where did you get the wood?”

“Elrond’s lad. Apparently he broke a table in his room, so we took it off the elves’ hands,” Dwalin answered, biting fiercely into the sausage. Thorin nodded and stole a sausage from Kili. At least they weren’t destroying the elves’ furniture on a whim as they had last time. That combined with the fact that he hadn’t heard of them bathing in a public fountain and Thorin’s help with the Ring meant that they could possibly walk out of Rivendell with an ally for the future. 

“Where’s Bilbo?”

“He went to have breakfast with Lord Elrond,” Kili answered, skewering another piece of meat to make up for the one that Thorin had stolen. “He said something about getting as many vegetables as he could before we left. Though, he did take some sausage to eat on the way.” 

“That sounds about right. After you eat, pack up. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. Elrond will read the map tonight - it needed to be read under a particular moon.” The others nodded and returned to their conversations. Thorin hesitated - these moments with the company, when they weren’t running for their lives, were treasured and he wanted to be able to relax with them, but he hadn’t forgotten his silent promise to himself to speak with Bilbo. 

With a nod, he left the dwarrow to head to the hall that they had taken most of their meals in. He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject with Bilbo, but they had slept pressed together the past two nights, and he didn’t believe that that was meaningless. He wasn’t sure when Bilbo’s feelings had developed last time, but he was nearly positive that it wasn’t while they were in Rivendell. 

However, they were closer this time around. Thorin was sure that he was one of Bilbo’s closest friends now, and maybe that had led to feelings being discovered sooner. Or maybe Bilbo had merely discovered that he felt comfortable enough sleeping next to Thorin, as friends. 

He ran a hand over his face. Was there a point in thinking himself in circles trying to figure out the thought process of the most maddening creature he had ever met? Not particularly, yet he seemed unable to stop himself. He hadn’t been able to make sense of Bilbo’s actions or possible feelings by the time he reached the dining hall, unsurprisingly. When he entered, Bilbo was seated with Elrond and Galadriel, all of whom welcomed him to their table. A bowl was placed in front of him, and he regretted not bringing more meat with him as he looked down into the plate of greens.

It took him a moment to realize how tense Bilbo was next to him. The familiarity that they had settled into was gone, and Thorin was reminded harshly of how Bilbo had been during his first time on the quest, when Thorin still thought he was useless and the hobbit tried so hard to not cause any trouble to worsen Thorin’s opinion. 

What on earth happened to cause that?

The elves finished their food rather quickly, and excused themselves _almost_ awkwardly. For elves, anyway. “Have they been acting odd this morning?” Perhaps they were distracted by the discussion that had occurred last night. Or maybe elves' gracefulness didn’t extend to social situations. 

Bilbo was silent beside him, and if it wasn’t from the warmth radiating from that slim body, Thorin would almost be convinced that Bilbo had managed to slip away. Thorin looked over at him with a raised eyebrow, taking in the way that Bilbo was looking at his empty bowl, as though he was trying to figure it out. “Bilbo?”

“Am I your One?”

The question was barely louder than a whisper, but it was enough to make Thorin’s heart stop for a beat. “How do you know what that is?” He shouldn’t. None of his company would have taken that away from him, despite their bet. Thorin was supposed to be able to explain it all, today, even, if it came to it. He swallowed as Bilbo turned to him, his eyes narrowed. 

“I’ll answer yours once you answer mine.”

Thorin swallowed, and he could only imagine how he must look. He hoped that his face didn’t show just how suddenly nervous he was. “Can we go somewhere else, at least?”

Without a word, Bilbo stood up and left the room, and Thorin scrambled after him as quickly as he could. Now, not only was he trying to figure out how Bilbo found out, but also why he seemed so angry about it. He certainly wasn’t angry last time, even if Thorin hadn’t been able to explicitly explain. Unless- Well, unless he didn’t have feelings for Thorin, couldn’t see himself having feelings for Thorin, and was actually disgusted by the idea of it. Could Thorin have changed so much that he had ruined his own chances with his One?

They ended up in a garden, predictably enough. Bilbo spun around, raising an expectant eyebrow at Thorin, and what else was he supposed to do but be honest? “Yes. You’re my One.” 

“Right. And that’s what, exactly?” Thorin’s confusion and curiosity was able to break through the stone sinking certainty that Bilbo was going to reject him, and must have been obvious enough to the hobbit. “I have an idea, but no one has actually answered me.”

“No one? How many people have you asked about this?”

“Well, I’ve asked Fili and Kili what a One is, after I overheard Dori talking to Bofur about it. I overheard Gloin, as well as Balin, actually refer to me as your One, but they wouldn’t answer it either. Most recently, though, was Elrond this morning, but he didn’t answer me either when I asked for an explanation, and then you showed up.” By the time Bilbo finished speaking, he was breathing a little heavily, his hands fisted at his waist, and his foot tapping the ground; the very picture of impatience. 

Thorin was making a mental list of who to kill, and Elrond was at the top of it. “What did Elrond say?”

“Does that matter?” Thorin shrugged. Not particularly, but he wanted to know if he needed to consider torture, or if the Lord of Rivendell had earned himself a swift death. “He made a comment about how fascinating it was that you had a One that wasn’t a dwarf, as that apparently isn’t very common. He didn’t say it was me, but with everyone else muttering about it, it wasn’t hard to put together.”

Swift death it was, then. Thorin sighed, and dropped onto a bench - idly, he wondered how long it would take him to count how many benches were in Rivendell, for it had to be in the hundreds. “Ones are… partners. Mahal assigns them, in a way, to dwarrow as the other part of our souls. How it feels when Ones are discovered can be different and sometimes hard to notice, but- Not with you.” Thorin was well aware he was speaking to his knees more than anything, but he couldn’t bear to see the look on Bilbo’s face. He wasn’t lying, though. Even the first time, when he had his misgivings about their hobbit burglar, he had to admit that there was something that continued drawing his gaze. Whether it was Bilbo’s quick wit, his eagerness to prove himself, or how the firelight bounced off his cheeks hardly mattered; only that he wouldn’t leave Thorin’s mind. “Dwarrow only love once, hence the name.” 

“Do all dwarrow have them?” Bilbo asked, and Thorin felt his lips twitch into a small smile as he noted that some of the fire had faded away. Always so insatiably curious. 

“Technically, yes, but it isn’t always a person. Sometimes a dwarf will feel the same level of love and completeness from their craft.”

“And I’m yours.” Thorin was sure that wasn’t an actual question, but he nodded anyway. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He couldn’t help the scoff that tore from his mouth and he winced before he glanced at his burglar. Yes, that reaction didn’t help ease any of the annoyance from Bilbo’s face, just as he suspected. “How was I supposed to? Can you tell me you would have reacted well if you opened the door to your hobbit hole and I asked for your heart, as well as food and lodging? None of which you anticipated being asked for?”

Finally, Bilbo’s expression relaxed, and he shuffled awkwardly. “No, I don’t think I would have responded favorably.” 

“I didn’t want to pressure you, Bilbo. That’s all. I wanted to tell you. I have spent the last few days trying to figure out how I would do so. It wasn’t about me keeping it from you. That’s the last thing I wanted, my-” Thorin cut himself off, shaking his head slightly as he pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to pressure the hobbit, and yet, he had already called him an endearment and was about to call him one more. 

“You could have just said it. I appreciate you not wanting to make me feel like I was obligated to return your feelings, but feeling as though everyone is gossiping behind my back is hardly preferred. If I wanted to be treated like that, I would have stayed in the Shire.” 

Thorin winced and nodded mutely, his gaze returning to his lap. An awkward silence fell between them, something that hadn’t happened since Thorin had first arrived at Bilbo’s smial all those weeks ago. 

“How were you planning on telling me, then?” Bilbo’s voice sounded closer, and he glanced up to see that the hobbit had come to a stop at the end of the curved bench, just within arm’s reach. 

“My first thought was to look up hobbit courting rituals,” he admitted after a moment. Bilbo’s lips twitched in amusement, and Thorin had a hard time tearing his gaze away. He focused on the feel of the stone beneath his fingers where he was clutching the edge of the bench. “Then today, I was trying to figure out how I could ask you- Well. Trying to figure out how I could tell you how glad I was to sleep next to you the past few nights. To see if it meant anything to you.”

This was the worst. He felt certain he was mucking this up, and he was quite sure that this part wasn’t going according to Mahal’s plan either. 

Bilbo made a soft sound that pulled his attention once more, and Thorin watched nervously as the hobbit sat next to him on the bench, his hand gripping the bench, right next to Thorin’s. “It did. Does,” Bilbo added quickly. “I-” The hobbit let out a huff of air, and Thorin watched with no little amount of fascination as a curl fluttered up from that breath. “This isn’t something that’s done in the Shire. Love between two males. At least, not openly. Any relationships I’ve had in the past have needed to be hidden, and I tired of that very quickly, so I just- didn’t let myself get attached to anyone in that way anymore. I was prepared to live out the rest of my days as a bachelor, with my writings and garden.” 

Thorin swallowed, his head spinning with the wealth of information that he had just been given. Bilbo was attracted to other males, which was a relief, but propriety - which Bilbo had always been overly concerned with - prevented him from accepting it. That explained a fair amount about their non-existent relationship last time, despite it being obvious there was affection between the two of them. “Dwarrow do not think it odd. To find your One is a blessing from Mahal. No one would dare go against that.” 

“Hobbits don’t have Ones,” Bilbo pointed out. “At least, not in the sense that you’re talking about. We just… fall in love.” 

“And you do not love me,” Thorin finished, trying to ignore how thick his voice sounded. It felt as though he was choking the words out, and this was so much worse than any way he had thought this conversation could go. 

“I- I never said that,” Bilbo corrected, breathing harshly. 

Thorin glanced over at him, surprised that Bilbo was facing him, looking at him so openly. He had spent hours memorizing every facial expression he had seen the hobbit make, and yet, this one was wholly unfamiliar to him. Bilbo’s mouth was pinched, as though he was trying to hold words back, while his eyes were earnest, drawing Thorin in. The expression was just as contrary as the owner of it often was, and it made Thorin’s lips twitch into a small, fleeting smile. 

“As I said, I was prepared to live out my days as a bachelor, until an unfairly beautiful dwarf knocked on my door and convinced me to come with him in a matter of hours. That is not love, but it is something.” 

Thorin stopped breathing. He stilled completely, needing Bilbo to continue, because the hope burning in his chest had the potential to consume him, and the waiting, oh, the waiting was torture. 

Bilbo continued, “Being with you makes me feel safe, and I know that I do have feelings for you - feelings completely different from how I may feel about any other member of the Company.” 

Bilbo paused, and Thorin didn’t miss the way he glanced to the edges of the garden before he could catch himself, as though checking to make sure they were still alone. A shift of his hand, and then Bilbo’s hand was covering his own, and Thorin could feel the divots that had been made by gripping the stone too tightly. “I can’t say I love you, but I’m fairly certain that I could. That’s what the courting is for, right?”

Finally, Thorin felt as though he could breathe. He was sure that if he had told Bilbo, the first time he went through the quest, about his feelings, this conversation would have looked vastly different. But Bilbo was right, as always: it was something. Thorin knew that they were destined, whether Bilbo believed it or not, and even if it was only a life of sleeping next to one another, it was more than he had. 

Slowly, Thorin turned his hand so that their palms met, and Bilbo only hesitated for a second before slipping his fingers between Thorin’s thicker ones. “You’ll have to explain hobbit courting,” he murmured. “Or you could wait until Ori asks you about it.” 

There was a beat of silence while Bilbo figured out just what he meant by that, and then the sound of Bilbo’s laughter was bouncing off the nearby pillars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is [here](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/).


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving Rivendell means a whole lot of trials for the Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your well wishes <3 Writing has been helpful with distracting me from everything, and your comments are great motivation. 
> 
> You'll notice I'm balancing Thorin and Bilbo's relationship while still keeping the plot in mind. Sometimes it might be a little skewed, but we've reached a milestone in the relationship with this chapter, and I can't wait for you guys to see what's next ;)

The next morning they left Rivendell. Following their conversation and a basic understanding that they would soon officially enter courting, Bilbo and Thorin had spent the day together sharing information about themselves and their cultures. That night, Elrond read the map before the whole company, and even discussed the fastest and possibly safest routes to get to Erebor before Durin’s day. Thorin had managed to steer the ideas towards what had originally happened, and there was no doubt between any of them that they would be taking the High Pass.

He and Gandalf, however, were the only ones who knew how dangerous that would end up being. 

Thorin had argued that the High Pass wasn’t suitable for ponies, and it was agreed between them all that they would leave the ponies in Rivendell and look to purchase more once they were through the mountains. Whether that was possible, he wasn’t sure, but it waylaid any concerns from the others. 

They started for the High Pass with Elrond’s well wishes and a little bit of extra food. It was just enough for them to eat comfortably before they stumbled into Goblintown, for which Thorin was thankful. They ate a bit while they walked.

Thorin was next to Ori who was going over the flowers that he had copied the day before. As they had expected, Bilbo confirmed that giving flowers was the first step of courting for hobbits. Thorin, unfortunately, knew that they didn’t have much time before they would be swept into a mad dash for their lives, so he would like to try to find flowers in the Misty Mountains, before they stumbled upon the rock giants. 

He wasn’t very hopeful.

Bilbo had slept next to, but mostly on, him last night, and Thorin was somewhat reassured in the knowledge that Bilbo felt something for him, even after the hobbit confirmed it the day before. He allowed himself to fantasize a bit about what their lives might look like after Smaug was dead and the ring was destroyed. Bilbo would be at his side as King Consort, which Bilbo would be brilliant at; probably far more than Bilbo thought himself. It was a lovely idea that kept Thorin smiling as they continued walking through lunch. None of them wanted to stop while they were in the mountains unless it was absolutely necessary. . There had never really been long stretches where either pass was safe. The sooner they got to Goblintown the better, though it meant that there would be very little time for them to relax.

By mid-afternoon, they were approaching the stone giants. The clouds above them were dark and greenish, the perfect setting for the upcoming thunder battle. “We have maybe another hour before it gets very dangerous,” he murmured to Dwalin and Balin. The brothers let out a sigh and nodded before they drifted to tell the others of the danger of the upcoming path. Thorin hadn’t told them much, but they knew enough from previous travels and tales through this area to offer warnings and ways to stay safe. 

“Thorin,” Ori came up from behind him, and he worried for a moment that the scribe had heard him. But no, Ori looked far too excited to have possibly heard about his leader predicting the future. “I found flowers.” 

Thorin raised an eyebrow and gestured for Ori to lead them. He knew the lad couldn’t have gone too far off the path - Dori had been watching him like a hawk the whole day and there was no way he could have gotten past him. “I think they’re Camellias,” Ori said, gesturing down a small hill. “You just have to choose what color,” he continued, pulling out one of his pages for Thorin to look over the list. 

“Red,” he answered, and Ori grinned and nodded. 

“Go. I’ll make sure he doesn’t see.” Bilbo was further back, speaking with Gandalf, so Thorin had a few moments to gather the flowers without the surprise being ruined.

With only a small amount of feeling foolish, Thorin carefully made his way off the path towards the flowers. To leave his Company for _flowers_ , of all things. His grandfather would have his head. They looked strong, at least, which they would have had to be to grow on the mountains, and he muttered a prayer to Mahal and Yavanna to thank them for it. He hardly wanted to offer his hobbit puny, weak flowers.

He did not, however, thank anyone when he slipped in the snow and ended up with his leg in a snow drift that went up to his thigh. He was close enough to pluck some of the red blooms though, and he tried to be as careful as possible with the plant. When he had a fair amount - he may have taken all the red ones he could reach - in hand he made his way back up the side of the mountain. He stuffed the bouquet behind his back once he was closer to the company. 

He ended up on the path right behind Bilbo. Ori, Mahal bless him, quickly went up to Gandalf and distracted him from the conversation with Bilbo. 

“Why is your leg wet?” Bilbo asked, looking down at Thorin’s trousers. He didn’t seem at all put out by his conversation partner being taken from him, which Thorin felt was a good thing.

He smiled softly to himself, and pulled the bouquet from behind his back, holding the bunch of red flowers out to his hobbit. “I may have stumbled a little bit.” 

Bilbo was looking down at the flowers with a surprised expression, a bright flush staining his cheeks, and he seemed to reach out for them without really thinking about it. Bilbo’s expression made Thorin’s confidence and joy stutter slightly. “They are camellias, aren’t they? Dwarrow aren’t well versed in plants.”

“Yes, um, they’re definitely camellias. And you- you know what they mean?” Thorin nodded, a bit hesitant once he noted the tightness of Bilbo’s voice. He was very aware that the sounds of the company moving ahead of them had stopped, and that meant either they had been left behind or everyone was staring at them. He was willing to bet it was the latter. “Did you know that the more flowers you give, the more the meaning is enhanced?”

After a moment a soft ‘ah’ sound escaped him. The flower, so innocent in his mind, that had meant ‘you’re a flame in my heart’ suddenly took on a whole new meaning. It was essentially a huge sign of undying passion, which Thorin felt wasn’t wrong, but it was certainly a bold message. “I did not know that, no.” 

Bilbo’s shoulders were shaking. Thorin was tempted to tunnel his way through the mountain to run away from how he had managed to embarrass himself yet again, until he saw that Bilbo’s shoulders were shaking due to laughter. Thorin let out a soft huff of laughter and smiled ruefully. “Too much?”

Bilbo shook his head. “It’s lovely. No one’s ever been so bold with me.” Thorin watched as the hobbit bent his head and sniffed at the flowers, a pleased smile pulling at his lips. “Did you know they would be here?”

“I was hoping to find something that would be suitable. I- I didn’t want to waste time.” Speaking about his feelings had never been easy. He had been trying his hardest, especially with Bilbo, to be more open, but it was still an uncomfortable thing for him. His reward for his honesty was Bilbo taking a step closer and putting his free hand on Thorin’s bicep so he could lean up and press a kiss to a bearded cheek. 

“I accept.” The words were whispered against his skin before Bilbo pulled back, and Thorin couldn’t stop the fond smile that pulled at his lips. 

“Thank you,” he breathed and received his own fond smile in return. “We should-” He gestured vaguely to the trail, and Bilbo nodded and turned forward, still holding the bouquet close to his chest. 

Only to freeze, his eyes wide. 

Thorin followed his gaze and saw every member of the company grinning at them, and he sighed. “They’re happy for us,” he murmured, remembering what Bilbo had told him the day before about the Shire not approving of two males loving each other. Bilbo nodded hesitantly and took a step forward, then another. 

“Finally.” Dwalin was at the head of the group, but his voice carried, even as he started pulling others away so they could resume their trek. “I thought the point was to find shelter before nightfall, not dally on the path.” Thorin snorted, shaking his head slightly at his friend’s words. Dwalin could never just say outright if he was happy; he always felt the need to mask it behind gruff words, and this time was no different.

“What are they doing?” Bilbo asked, watching as each member of the company, Gandalf included, proceeded to go up to Ori for a few seconds and then drift away. It was a quick movement, but Thorin knew that the scribe’s pocket was gradually getting heavier with however much gold he had just won.

“I believe they had a bet going about how long it would take for me to court you. Ori won.” Thorin couldn’t help his grin, or the way it grew as he watched Balin hand over the coin with a frown on his face.

Bilbo glanced over at him, eyes wide and blush still lingering. “They knew?”

Thorin nodded, and stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep from touching Bilbo once more. He had realized a few days ago that cuddling with his burglar had quickly become addictive and he found himself always wanting to touch the hobbit, to feel the silky skin beneath his fingertips. Now that they were courting, he had to believe that it would be even more accepted, but Thorin held himself back - with great effort. “Most of them know me very well, and I am not known for being subtle. I think the bet started as we left the shire.” 

Bilbo smiled down at the flowers in his hands. “I still say you should have told me.” Thorin rolled his eyes, not taking the hobbit’s bait to get into that particular argument once more. It had come up on three separate occasions the day before and had turned into a little bit of a game between them.

Instead, Bilbo explained more about different flower meanings and giving his own theories as to why particular meanings were assigned to particular flowers. While it still didn’t make much sense to Thorin - much less sense than the language of gemstones, anyway - it was still an enjoyable way to pass the time and it was interesting enough. He discovered that Bilbo took great pleasure in answering questions, even if they sounded stupid to even Thorin. In turn, he explained a bit more about gems. By the time it started storming, they had been talking at the tail end of the company for hours and it felt as though they had been in their own world. 

It was something that he would have to look back on fondly as they went through the next few days. 

The path turned slick with the rain, and Thorin had warned Bilbo to not look over the ledge, to just concentrate on his feet. Dwarven boots were more suited for the terrain, and he found it slick in some places still; he couldn’t imagine how harrowing Bilbo must find it. Thorin shouted to Dwalin, at the front of the company to pass back a rope. The rain came down in sleets, making it difficult to see more than two dwarrow ahead of him, and the thunder battle starting in earnest only made it worse. He remembered how many of them had come close to falling over the edge last time, or in Bilbo’s case, had actually fallen over. Having them linked would make it easier to pull them back, though it still had a fair amount of give.

Though, he couldn’t deny that it could also bring them all over. He sighed to himself and kept a hold on Bilbo’s jacket as the hobbit walked in front of him. There were no good choices for this part of the journey. He would just have to do what he could, and try to ensure the safety for everyone. 

Soon enough, the rope reached Thorin and he tied it around his waist. He was assuming it was actually two ropes tied together to link all fifteen of them together, and he sent a prayer up to Mahal that it would hold. 

A few seconds’ warning was all they received as a large boulder hit the mountain side, raining rubble and stone down on them. Thorin tugged Bilbo to the side as the rest of the dwarrow pressed themselves to the mountain, avoiding the downpour as best as they could. 

“This is no thunderstorm,” he heard Balin distantly. “This is a thunder battle!” The sky was lit briefly by lightning, revealing a jagged mass moving ahead of them and plucking the top of a craggy peak as though it was nothing. 

“We need to keep moving,” Thorin shouted, urging them all forward and speaking over Bofur’s cries that the legends of stone giants were true. He couldn’t remember when the giant that they were walking over would wake, but it was going to be soon, and he didn’t want to see what would happen if they were split on opposite legs again. 

Between Thorin and the three others that knew to heed Thorin’s warning, there was a fair amount of pushing or pulling the others forward, despite the sprinkling of stone falling around them. Thorin tried to protect Bilbo’s head the best that he could - all of the dwarrow had been hit in the head by falling rock before, and while it wasn’t fun, it wasn’t nearly as painful as it would be if it hit, say, a hobbit in the head. 

There was a rumbling beneath them, and they pressed to the wall once more automatically. Thorin looked around wildly, remembering the sound of the giants’ grumbling mixed with the screech of rock sliding and falling away and how it had split his company last time. Now, though, the divide of the giant’s legs developed just behind him, and Thorin let out a sigh of relief. “Keep going!” 

Rock continued falling all around them, and Thorin was watching the giants battle relentlessly. The worst part may have been over and no one had fallen, but he was tensed for anything else that may happen. One of the giants was punched and teetered before falling to the side, moving towards the mountain the dwarrow were scurrying across slowly. “Stop,” Gandalf, sticking up from the middle of the company like a tentpole, pulled on the rope in front of him. It caused the others - Dwalin, Nori, Bifur, Balin, Fili, Kili, and Bombur - to slide back before the giant collided with the mountain, it’s jagged edges slotting against the mountain’s with an all mighty crash right where they were about to walk. 

The movement, however, caused Nori to slip. The thief’s normal gracefulness was difficult to maintain in the chaos surrounding them on the narrow path. Thorin watched, frozen, as Nori dipped over the ledge and tugged down Dwalin with him. The others were shouting as they tried to get a grip on the rope to pull them back up. 

Slowly, the back half pressed on to close the gap and to lend their strength as much as they could. As he got closer, he could see that Dwalin had one of his axes hooked around the edge of the path and was holding himself, and Nori, up by that until the others were close enough to haul them up. 

Once they were both on the appropriate side of the ledge and Thorin had been able to clasp a hand over both of their shoulders, he urged them to keep moving. They were all feeling relieved that they hadn’t lost any of their company, but they needed to keep moving and find the cave. 

Luckily, they all seemed to agree with Thorin’s pushing and prodding now and were eager to put more distance between themselves and the giants’ battle. The storm didn’t let up any as they continued, and by the time they reached the secret entrance to Goblintown, they were all eager to rid themselves of their sodden clothes. They did not appreciate Thorin’s order not to do so, but accepted the rationale of it being too dangerous to build a fire, so removing their clothes would be pointless. 

They were all huddled together with Bofur on watch at the mouth of the cave; all of them except Thorin and Gandalf, who were deeper in the small cave. “Last time, you weren’t with us when we fell. It was only because of your late arrival that we were able to escape.” Gandalf nodded, sighing to himself. 

“I will make sure I do not fall with you.” The wizard looked hard at Thorin then, and it was the first time in many days that there wasn’t an annoying twinkle in his eye. Since the meeting, Gandalf had been watching him stumble through interactions with Bilbo with amusement, which grated on Thorin endlessly. He wasn’t sure that being confronted with the accusatory stare of the wizard was better, however. “You must let Bilbo find the ring how he had the first time. You cannot change that part and risk him not finding it.” 

Thorin ripped his gaze away, not wanting to meet Gandalf’s eyes any longer and confirm that he had been trying to figure out a way to stay with his One. It had only been hours that they had been separated last time, and Thorin hadn’t had nearly as much affection for the hobbit as he did now, but it was still difficult. He had been worried as soon as he had realized, and now that he knew what Bilbo was doing, what he was finding, it was only worse. 

“Thorin-”

“I know. I won’t try to stay with him, but-” Thorin shook his head, casting a look over at Bilbo. His One seemed to sense it and returned his gaze, confusion and worry showing, despite how he shivered to himself. “He’ll be alone.” 

“As he was last time. He was able to do it before, and he will do so now. Have faith in him.” 

A growl wanted to bubble up from his throat, frustration spiking at the idea that he didn’t have faith in Bilbo’s abilities. “It isn’t a manner of me not believing in him,” he replied, glaring harshly up at Gandalf only to spot the miniscule uplifting of the wizard’s lips. It only made him angrier, that the wizard would try to manipulate him past his worries, and that it had worked. “Just make sure you don’t get caught,” he huffed, and pulled himself away from the infuriating wizard. 

He wasn’t sure when the trap would be sprung this time, if it opened at the same time every night in the hopes of having victims or the goblins were somehow watching for when they fell asleep. He hoped that he had least had some time, though, and went to Bilbo’s side. He only hesitated for a few seconds before wrapping an arm around the hobbit’s waist to pull him closer and share in body warmth.

“Thank you,” Bilbo murmured before he burrowed slightly into Thorin’s side,though he didn’t miss the way the hobbit glanced around at the others, as though checking to see if it was acceptable to be so affectionate in front of them. “I understand why we can’t light a fire, but I can’t say I’m a fan of being in damp clothes.” 

Thorin huffed a soft laugh, as did some of the others near them. “Once we’re through the mountain, we won’t have to worry as much. We’ll have weeks through plains and- Through a forest.” Assuming that Thorin was able to come up with a way to avoid being captured by Thranduil, but so far he hadn’t been able to come up with one that he found acceptable, and they had many more trials to get through before they came to it. 

Bilbo nodded and let his head rest against Thorin’s chest, much as he had the past few days. Bofur was still on watch, and the others began settling themselves on the sandy floor. Thorin looked around, noting how Gandalf kept himself to the back shadows of the cave, and he could just make out the wizard’s gaze sweeping over the floor, as though trying to find where it would crack and give away. 

Thorin wasn’t sure how much time passed. He let his eyes close, but sleep - even if he had wanted to - remained far away with what he knew was coming. Bilbo’s breath had deepened, and Thorin was cataloguing and memorizing everything about this quiet moment; Bilbo’s face was pressed against Thorin’s armor, which he knew wasn’t very comfortable but he couldn’t bring himself to move the hobbit. One delicate hand was clutching at one of the dwarf’s coats, and Thorin was half tempted to pull the hobbit into his lap so he could be a little more comfortable.

If it also meant that Bilbo’s head was closer to his own so that Thorin could bury his head in those russet curls, that was for only him to know. 

“What’s that?” Bofur’s voice was quiet, barely more than a mutter, but Thorin’s head immediately rose to look at the miner. Bofur’s gaze was on Bilbo’s sword, and as Thorin looked down, he saw that a blue glow was spilling out of the scabbard on Sting, as well as Orcrist at his own hip. 

“Wake up!” He yelled, jostling Bilbo as he prodded the nearest dwarf - Gloin - with his foot. A crack was developing in the sand as he stood. “Wake up!”

The words had barely left his mouth once more when plates of the floor began moving, tilting and taking dwarrow with them. Thorin had had a vain hope of grabbing one of them, either his hobbit or his nephews, and keeping them close, but as soon as they began sliding down the tunnel made by the goblins, it was impossible. Earth and stone flew past, too quickly to even get a sense of things, and he was battered by both the rough tunnel and the limbs of the others. 

It was almost a relief to land in the crude cage, though it felt as though it took an eternity to reach it. For a few seconds, it was difficult to get his bearings, he only knew that they had stopped moving and there were bodies all around him. Quickly, he cast his head around, seeking out Bilbo and he moved towards him, ignoring the sounds of the goblin herd approaching. 

“Thorin-”

“If you can slip away, you need to do it,” Thorin interrupted, his voice low, but he was sure that those closest to them heard them. He saw Nori turn his head towards them.

“But-”

“Please. It’ll be more helpful than getting captured with us.” 

Bilbo looked as though he wanted to argue more, but the goblins descended upon them, pulling and pushing. It felt as though they were being suffocated, brought down into the goblins’ chaos. It was hard to keep track of anything, and he had only a brief second where he felt a smaller hand in his, a squeeze, and then he was herded away. He tried to fight as much as he could, but no matter how many goblins he pushed away, how many punches he landed, there was always another to appear, to take their fellow’s place, all uncaring about each other’s well-being. They were like an infestation of rats, writhing and constantly moving and searching out a next meal.

They were being shepherded across a bridge, and he knew at the end of it would be the Goblin King. Thorin continued fighting - even if he knew that it was inevitable; that it needed to happen to give Bilbo enough time to find the Ring and still be reunited with them - he couldn’t just let him and his Company give up. 

He had lost track of who was around him, or how many bridges and different tunnels they had been pushed down. There was too much happening for him to accurately pay attention to his surroundings. Eventually, though, they reached a large cavern with a jagged platform jutting up in the middle of it. Even from where they were, Thorin could see the Goblin King in all his disgusting glory. 

He felt a tug on his arm, different from the harsh grabbing of the goblins and looked over to see Nori by his side. “ _He got away. Slipped right under them_ ,” the thief murmured in Khuzdul, and Thorin let out a sigh of relief. That, at least, had gone according to plan.

Now, the rest of the Company just needed to get out of these cursed Mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on my [tumblr!](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/)


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Into Goblin Town!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice bits of this are directly from the movies, the same for previous chapters. I love Goblin Town so much that I couldn't help but have some fun playing with how a more informed Thorin would handle it, while knowing we couldn't change too much so that Bilbo could still find the ring. I hope you enjoy!

The foul music of the goblins echoed around the cavern, creating a cacophony of out of tune singing, only made worse by the Goblin King joining in. The closer they got, the worse it became, rattling around Thorin’s head as the large goblin danced around, squashing and pushing his subordinates over the edge without a care. It made his lips curl in distaste. Even if he knew that goblins were foul creatures, soulless and things of evil, it was shameful of someone bearing the name of King to be so careless with his subjects.

The voices of the goblins on the edge picked up the tune along with their king, and he could see Bifur wincing at the din surrounding them. An unfortunate goblin near the king was skewered on his staff and went sailing through the air as the dwarrow looked on with vague horror. 

The king finished with a slow twirl, causing all of them on the platform - goblin and dwarrow alike - to duck to avoid being pushed over the edge by the staff still in his hands. Thorin rose to his full height, unwilling to be hidden by his company as they had attempted to do last time, and watched as the large goblin resumed his seat, a sneer once again pulling at Thorin’s lips as several smaller goblins were squashed under those misshapen feet.

“Catchy, isn’t it? It’s one of my own compositions,” the King bragged. Thorin could feel someone practically vibrating with anger behind him, and he remembered that Balin had spoken up last time they had come through. 

“That’s not a song! That’s an abomination!” Balin shouted, predictably, and Thorin reached back to keep Balin in his place behind him. 

Just as last time, the king was more amused than anything. “Abominations, mutations, deviations… That’s all you’re going to find down here.” Thorin scoffed, and was immediately the subject of a baleful glare. The clatter of weapons did not even break the stare between the two kings, even as the goblin king spoke. “You dare come into my kingdom armed?”

Thorin smirked. The goblin king had hardly been worth remembering; much of his concern about going through goblin town again had been due to the sheer number of them, not any concern about the king himself. He was a large, jiggling disaster that thought he was better than any other due to size. He was not so different from insufferable lords in Ered Luin, who thought the same just because of their wealth. Unlike them, however, Thorin didn’t have to stop himself from rolling his eyes, and he did so with relish, especially as it caused the king to sputter at the disrespect. 

“Search them! Every crack and crevice!” Once again, they were poked and prodded and divested of anything else of worth on their bodies. Nori’s bag was emptied, revealing just how much he had taken from the Elves. Thorin didn’t take his eyes off the king, but he could just barely see the other dwarrow look over at the thief. 

“They’re in league with the Elves!”

The king stepped closer, taking up the brass candle holder from the puny goblin. “Made in Rivendell. Bah - Second Age. I couldn’t give it away,” he pointed out, tossing it into the abyss with a sneer. 

“They were just a couple of keepsakes,” Nori muttered, and Thorin was sure that Dori was glaring at his brother. 

“What are you doing here? The truth now.” Despite Thorin making it clear that he was the leader, Oin, Bofur, and Dori all stepped up, shouting differing explanations and talking over one another in an attempt to distract the king. It was only a few moments before an ugly look stole over the huge goblin’s face. “SHUT UP.” The king rose once more, his eyes gleeful as he shouted out a threat to rile up the others. “If they will not talk, we’ll make them squawk!”

“Wait-” Thorin stepped forward, before the beast could continue. He had suddenly remembered the way the goblin king had continued last time, how he had promised to mangle their bodies and break their bones until they talked, starting with the youngest. Ori had had nightmares for weeks following their escape from the Misty Mountains, and Thorin wasn’t willing to have that happen again. 

“Finally, you speak. Thorin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror. King Under the Mountain,” the other king taunted, and Thorin flashed him a mirthless smile. Before, the goblin’s taunts had gotten under his skin, and had played into his insecurities. He knew better now. He wouldn’t be needled and taken by surprise again. “Oh, but I’m forgetting! You don’t have a mountain. And you’re not really a king! Which makes you… nobody, really.” Thorin’s smile had yet to fade, and the goblin king’s brow furrowed, as much as it could with all it’s loose skin. “I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head,” the king continued, his confusion as Thorin’s lack of reaction evident.

“Azog,” Thorin answered, his smile growing as the look of confusion grew and the dwarrow behind him murmured to themselves. “He’s set a bounty on my head, correct? I have to wonder why. It’s been over a century. Why now? It’s not as though I was hard to find in all that time,” he pointed out, tilting his head curiously at the goblin. 

The creature sputtered, staring at Thorin in shock. The dwarf stared back, his eyes shining with a grim sort of amusement at being able to catch the thing off guard. Suddenly, another detail from his past life came to light in his mind, and he continued, hoping to distract the king further. If he could keep the goblin from sending word to Azog, they could get more time and distance before they were tracked. 

He didn’t think that they could avoid the wargs entirely, unfortunately.

“Nothing to say, filth?” Thorin goaded, ignoring the way the goblins murmured and swiped at him in retaliation. One of them caught on his sleeve, but he shook it off, his gaze on the goblin king. “Surely, you thought to ask him for more information when you were told about the bounty on my head? Or did you just follow him blindly?” The goblin's face was slowly contorting, scrunching in on itself and taking on a muddy red color in his anger. Thorin smiled grimly once more, recalling his own insecurities, everything that the gold had whispered to him when he was lost. “You call yourself a king, but it seems you’re nothing more than a slave to lesser beings. It’s amazing that you even got these fools to follow you.”

The king growled, taking a few lumbering steps forward, a meaty hand reaching out - either to strike him or grab him, Thorin wasn’t sure. He moved out of the way quickly, and cast a look at his Company. While he had been angering the king, they had slowly been putting more space between them, and the goblins on the outer edges of the group were being pushed over the ledge. It wasn’t too noticeable, but it was a start. 

He turned his attention back to the king who had just stepped on the pile of weapons. Thorin winced as the steel of the weapons gave a low groan. He was sure that more than a few of them were now bent and would take a fair amount of work to be fixed. Thorin let out an annoyed sigh, and quickly shoved a goblin that was attempting to come up behind him. The Goblin King didn’t react to that, his gaze on his feet. 

“What’s this?” the king asked softly, and one of the smaller goblins ran forward to pull Orcrist out from underneath the king. Thorin was sure that the fact that it had stood up to the weight of the huge goblin was what had drawn his attention, and Thorin quickly signed in Inglishmek to the others to get ready to fight. Blue light was spilling from the scabbard still, and that was apparently enough to make the goblin king take a hurried step back, even as the little one drew it out a bit. The fine curve and glowing inscription left no doubt that it was of elvish make, and it was cast down quickly as soon as the little one noticed. “The Goblin-Cleaver! Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand necks!” 

Just as before, the sight of the sword spurned the goblins into action, and they were teeming forward once more, despite their slightly lessened numbers. The dwarrow fought back immediately, and Thorin finally had to take his eyes off the king. Goblins were flying through the air, crawling over one another, waving whips around wildly, uncaring if they injured or tackled one of their own in an attempt to get to the Company. 

Thorin tried to fight his way forward, aiming to get Orcrist in his hands once more and use the blade to cut down the goblins around them, the way it was intended. He was brought down by a goblin being thrown at the back of his legs, and within a second he was covered by several light, dry skinned bodies attempting to tear him apart with their bare hands. 

“Cut off his head!” The king ordered, and one pulled out a knife. 

“NO!” Thorin couldn’t be sure which of his Company shouted, who was near him - he couldn’t look. A sharp, wicked blade was pulled from nowhere and held up threateningly in front of his face, and he swallowed. Somehow, he had ended up in the same position he was in last time, and he cast a fervent prayer that Gandalf’s timing was just as impeccable as it was before. 

“NOW! Kill him!” He felt, rather than saw, the King approaching, the steps vibrating the stone beneath his back. Just as the blade was pulled back, preparing to plunge into his skull, Thorin felt a softer vibration, a mere pinprick comparatively, but it brought a sense of calm that lasted for a second before a great wave of light and force swept over them all.

 _Gandalf_ , Thorin thought, his ears ringing slightly. _Thank you_. He shook his head slightly, trying to push the goblins off of him, despite feeling as though he had been crushed beneath a mine collapse.

“Take up arms! Fight!” Gandalf swept in, taking on several of the goblins that had recovered, and Thorin lunged for Orcrist. As soon as the blade was in his hand, he cut down the goblins that were trying to prevent the others from grabbing their weapons. Quickly, the platform was a mess of swinging blades, hammers, and staff, slick with black blood. 

He tried to keep an eye on his Company, as well as the king. Luckily, the large goblin was still trying to regain his feet after being knocked down. Thorin moved towards him, taking in as much as he could while he fought, the confidence in his skill bringing a sort of calm over him. He saw Kili out of the corner of his eye, moving parallel to him, and he called his name as he cut the goblin in front of him in half. “Bring him down!” 

The Goblin King was rising to his feet, after a pack of the lesser goblins had pushed him into a position where he could do so. Thorin charged him, hoping to push him back, and he heard the soft _thwang_ of bowstring from behind him. He cut at the king’s leg, even as the goblin rocked back on his feet, a surprised grunt escaping him. Thorin glanced up and saw an arrow sticking out of his eye socket, and then the large being fell over the edge, taking down several other goblins with him. 

“You’ve become fond of aiming for the eyes,” he tossed back to his nephew, quickly getting swept up in the battle once more. 

There was a short burst of laughter from behind him, and he felt his nephew’s back press against his as they created a circle of bodies around them. “You can’t deny it’s efficient!”

“To me!” Gandalf called, swinging his staff to clear room so the dwarrow could regroup around him. Thorin cut down one more goblin before he turned and pushed Kili ahead of him, mindful of his nephew’s lingering limp. He had to hope that they would be able to get out more smoothly than they had last time, but considering how similar this trip had ended up being, he doubted it. 

Thorin glanced over at the throne, remembering his idea to prevent the Goblin King’s messenger from being able to leave. To his dismay, the tiny goblin’s perch was gone, only the length of rope showing that the thing had been there in the first place. He groaned to himself and ran after the others; he had to hope that he had at least stalled the messenger and bought them a little more time from Azog.

Gandalf led them over shoddy, wooden bridges. The screeching and stumbling of the goblins came from behind them, pushing the dwarrow to run faster than was normal. There was a slight burn in Thorin’s chest as they pushed forward, and he kept an eye out for anything that would help them clear the way. 

Dwalin shouted in front of him, and Thorin quickly helped free a length of timber from the bridge, using it to knock the goblins coming at them off the bridge in great sweeps. The rest ran past them as they dropped the rod, pushing goblins off the wooden track easily. 

He knew that part of him, and part of the others, relished this. Getting to use skills developed over centuries, to prove that dwarrow were hardy and capable and not to be taken lightly. Goblins were easily killed, it was true, but with such vast numbers the fact that they had made it out of their crude tunnels the first time, and were likely to do so again, was a testament to the strength of their Company. As he paused, spinning Orcrist in great circles and taking down any goblin in his path, he caught sight of Dwalin doing the same, Balin a little ahead of him, Bofur behind him… It was beautiful, in a way, but possibly that only dwarrow would see it that way.

Oin was in the middle of a crossroads, swinging a staff above his head and causing goblins to stumble into each other and knock each other off. Thorin called for him and then they were running again, Fili at the tail cutting ropes as he went, cutting off the goblins’ routes. 

“Bloody goblins,” Gloin growled. Thorin glanced at where his cousin had come up short - this section was apparently newer, as the bridge just stopped, with a fair amount of empty space to the next section. 

“Fili, cut us loose,” he ordered, doing a quick headcount to make sure they were all there. The bridge swung, getting close enough to the other side that some of them could make the jump. It swung back, and Thorin took a step back as goblins hopped on. There was hardly enough time for him to knock down the goblins coming towards him before they had to make the jump to the other side, and then Fili was cutting the final rope for that bridge as well.

They were getting closer. Each of the dwarrow were sucking in great lungfuls of air, and Thorin noted that the air wasn’t as foul here, there was the faintest taste of freshness, and he pushed himself to run faster. Gandalf cast a spell to break off a piece of the stalactite from the ceiling of the cave; the large chunk had hardly hit the ground before it was being pushed by Dwalin and Dori, rolling over the goblins that were trying to meet them. 

They turned a corner and Thorin saw Gandalf skid to a stop on a stretch of bridging. There was a large cluster of goblins on the other side, teeming to try to get to the dwarrow, and he could see them moving quickly in the shadow stringing something together. “They’re making a ladder,” he huffed. The goblins were relentless, he had to give them that. 

“Uncle!”

Thorin turned at the sound of Fili’s voice, and watched with wide eyes as both his nephews and Ori tried to keep the pack of goblins that had been chasing them at bay. “Gandalf. Can you protect us if this bridge collapses,” he muttered. He was nearly positive that that had been how they had been fine the last time. Things were slightly different now - the Goblin King was not alive to surprise them or fall on them when they came to a stop - but it was an efficient escape. 

“Hold on!” Gandalf offered a brief warning before aiming the crystal of his staff, and another burst of powerful light swept past the young dwarrow. It knocked the closest line of goblins down while destroying the supports of the bridge. Thorin felt his stomach rise up to his throat as the bridge dropped suddenly, and the Company, even Gandalf, dropped to their knees and gripped what bits of wood they could find to try to keep purchase. Thorin clenched his jaw - the speed at which the bridge was descending, not to mention the various ways it bumped into different cuts of stone as well as bodies - was making him nauseous. He thought he heard Bifur let out a whoop, while Bofur and Bombur, nearest to Thorin, were yelling their heads off. 

The bridge rattled and jostled, and it took a large amount of effort for Thorin to raise his head to see what was happening. The bridge, surely held together by some of Gandalf’s magic, was scraping between two walls, and he knew that it would get lodged between them once they were near to the ground. 

Thorin didn’t have time to be thankful as they came near to a stop. As soon as the bridge shuttered from its impact on the ground, a sharp pain struck him through his shoulder. Thorin cursed to himself and sucked in a deep breath to try to calm himself, only to gag at the stench. Bofur and Bombur helped him up, and a glance between his shoulder - which had a stake of wood sticking out of it - and the bridge showed what had happened. Somehow, the Goblin King had fallen into this ravine, and the bridge landing on top of him had pushed the board in such a way that random jagged edges were sticking up, primed to impale someone. 

“Of course,” he bit out. His jaw was starting to throb with how hard he had been clenching it. 

“You’ve got to be joking,” Dwalin breathed, limping over. 

Oin quickly followed, covered in dust. Thorin looked up as the healer bent over to look at his shoulder. “We need to hurry,” Thorin pointed out. The goblins were too far to make out clearly, but there was what looked like a great shadow crawling down the walls, growing closer. 

“Well, luckily, it missed anything important. This is going to smart,” Oin grumbled. Pain ripped through his shoulder, and Thorin groaned as the wood was pulled out. “I’ll have to clean it once we’re safe.” 

Thorin couldn’t keep a slight chuckle to himself as a bandage was quickly wrapped around his arm. They weren’t going to have much time for it to be cleaned, and he couldn’t help but find it a little funny to think that he might die from an infection, instead of in battle this time. “We need to go. There’s too many for us to fight,” he said instead, taking a step away from the healer and towards the wizard. 

Gandalf’s large hand hovered over his shoulder and the burning dissipated slightly. “Only one thing will save us now. Daylight,” Gandalf directed and gave Thorin a small push forward. Dwalin was immediately by his side to make sure that he didn’t stumble or collapse. They ran quickly, following their stone sense and noses to find a path out. 

They didn’t change their pace until they saw sunlight, and even then, they only sped up as much as they could. Gandalf stopped to make sure that no one was left behind, and Thorin wanted to linger, wanted to make sure that Bilbo was with them, but it was too dangerous. Only once they were in the sun, with their exit far behind them did they stop. 

Once they were in a clearing, with trees sparsely surrounding them, Thorin immediately went to sit on a large rock, Oin by his side not a second later. “We need to clean this as quickly as possible,” Thorin directed, his eyes constantly moving, trying to find a hint of burgundy flashing between the trees. 

Gandalf was counting the other dwarrow as they came to a stop in the clearing. Once he counted Bombur, he relaxed slightly, though he also scanned the treeline. “Where is Bilbo?”

“Thorin told him to slip away,” Nori answered. Thorin’s eyes were screwed up, both from the pain of Oin picking out slivers of wood from his wound, as well as the fear that Bilbo was in danger. What if it hadn’t worked the same way, and Bilbo was back in the mountain, being eaten by a goblin? He sighed and forced his eyes open once more, scanning, hoping for his hobbit to appear from nowhere as he had before.

“There’s no way he can make it out of there alone,” Fili said, looking back up at the mountain with wide eyes. “We have to go back!”

“Laddie…” Balin sighed and cast a sad look at Thorin. “We barely made it out. I don’t want to leave Master Baggins there either, but I imagine he wouldn’t want us to die for him.”

“Well, that’s true,” a bright voice answered. Thorin stood and whipped around, all the dwarrow spinning in their places as well until they could all see Bilbo. He let out a deep sigh of relief and drank in the sight of his One. He was dirty, covered in grime and all his clothes were rumpled, with his jacket missing the buttons. Thorin watched as Bilbo ran his right hand down his waistcoat - it would have looked like his nervous gesture if he hadn’t seen how the hand had been curled around something, and then flattened once it went over the pocket. 

He had the Ring. 

“How did you-”

“I fell,” Bilbo cut Kili off, flashing him a tight smile. “Stumbled around in the dark until I saw you lot running past.” Bilbo looked uncomfortable with having all their eyes on him, but Thorin couldn’t stop himself from moving forward and pulling the hobbit into a tight hug. “Oh! Um- Hmm. Are you alright?”

Thorin swallowed, not trusting himself to speak. If he had his way, that would be the last time he was separated from Bilbo. “Are you?”

“A little bruised, but I think I’m better off than you all. You’re bleeding.”

“Aye, and he’ll keep bleeding if he doesn’t let me finish cleaning it. Let him go so I can finish, since we’re in such a big hurry.” Oin didn’t wait for them to move before he was pulling them apart, and Bilbo watched with vague amusement as Thorin was forcibly sat down once more. He did, however, sit next to Thorin, his hand twitching in his lap, as though he wanted to reach for Thorin’s. 

Every moment that passed made Thorin more and more nervous. He didn’t know how much time they had before Azog found them, and he did not want to get stuck in a tree on a cliffside again. He met Gandalf’s eye, who was looking at him quizzically, and something in his face must have shown his worry, because Gandalf immediately turned and also started keeping a watch. 

“Alright, that’s as clean as I can get it at the moment.”

“We’ll finish it later then,” Thorin replied quickly, standing and pulling Bilbo up with him. “We need to move. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on my [tumblr!](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/)


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lovely visit to a bridge, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part where book and movie canon gets tossed out the window and I start doing whatever I want XD I promise, this is just more of me playing around with events, while simultaneously pushing together Bilbo and Thorin. I hope you all like going off the rails now!

It was easy to convince the others to continue. A reminder that the goblins would be out in full force once the sun was going down brought everyone to their feet, weapons in hand, and Thorin led the way down the mountainside. Gandalf quickly caught up with him and cast him a questioning glance. Thorin looked behind him, but relaxed once he saw that only Dwalin and Balin were close enough to possibly overhear. 

“Azog is alive and hunting us,” he murmured. He saw Dwalin tense out of the corner of his eye, but kept most of his focus on scanning the treeline and keeping an ear out for a warg howl. “Last time we got away, but barely. I would rather not repeat that particular experience.” 

Gandalf hummed and looked about them. “What happened last time?” 

Thorin huffed and rolled his eyes. He looked pointedly at the cliffside that he was fairly certain was the one they had been trapped on last time. Gandalf’s eyebrows rose but he didn’t ask any follow up questions, which Thorin was grateful for. “Last time he found us much faster, thanks to the Goblin King,” he offered instead. “If we can get closer to the Anduin, closer to Beorn’s, we may fare better.” 

“Beorn?” Gandalf asked. Thorin hummed and looked behind him once more. The others were following closely, though the Sons of Fundin were making sure no one was too close to Thorin and the wizard. Thorin nodded gratefully at them and rolled his shoulder, ignoring the way it throbbed. It wasn’t his sword arm, but it would likely still hinder him. “You think Azog will still find us?”

“The Goblin King’s messenger was gone. I’m sure he’s aware that we passed through. If we can surprise him instead of the other way around-” 

Gandalf nodded. “The Hadhodiant would be an ideal place to lie in wait.” Thorin tilted his head, considering. The bridge had been in ruins for hundreds of years, since the fall of Khazad-dum. Since the dwarrow of Khazad-dum were no longer there to maintain it, it had been replaced by a small ford, a little further South, and Azog would likely assume that the Company would be heading towards there. 

“We could hide on the Hadhodiant and let them pass, and take them from behind,” he offered, and smirked as the wizard nodded in agreement. 

“We have to get there first. It’s not that close.” 

Thorin sighed, but nodded. He turned to the company. “We need to get to the Hadhodiant as quickly as possible. Once there, we should be far enough from the goblins to rest.” Unsurprisingly, the others grumbled and groaned, but began lashing their remaining belongings to their bodies so that nothing else would be lost while they ran. 

Bilbo came up short next to him, raising an eyebrow. “What is the Hadho- Hm, where are we going?” Thorin smirked to himself at Bilbo struggling with the name of the bridge. It wasn’t quite Khuzdul, but still a mouthful. He focused for a few seconds on securing his weapons.

“An abandoned bridge. It will be safe, but we need to get there before nightfall.” He glanced over everyone, and their displeased faces made him wish that he could tell them what was coming, why he was pushing them so much after their narrow escape. With a sigh, he offered a small smile to Bilbo. “Let’s go.”

Dwarrow were natural sprinters. Hobbits, apparently, were not. 

Bilbo fell to the back of the pack quickly, and Thorin with him. The others were following Gandalf closely, and Thorin continued to look behind him, watching for any trace of movement that may indicate that Azog was approaching. As they continued pushing on, the Company let out a cheer as the bridge ruins came into sight, and Thorin started to breathe a little easier. “We’re nearly there, zyungel,” he panted, urging Bilbo forward with a hand on the small of his back. 

“It’s rude-” Bilbo whined, his breathing shallow from the fast pace. “To call me names I don’t understand,” he finished quickly. Bilbo sucked in a deep breath as Thorin huffed out a laugh. 

“I’ll explain once we get to the bridge.” All Bilbo could do was nod and they ran on in silence. He hardly wanted to let himself hope for a better outcome that may come from attacking Azog outright. He had too much hope as it was, and he was sure that something awful would happen just to smite it down. The hope that Bilbo would be his, that they could defeat Smaug, that the ring could be destroyed, that Azog would die… It was too much, too lucky for someone like him, and he shoved the idea to the back of his mind, hidden deep. It was better to focus on the present.

The bridge was in more disrepair than he had thought. It hardly extended over the river at all, and there was only one pointed arch entryway that was still whole. Still, the abutment maintained its integrity, as well as the entryway, and offered them space away from unfriendly eyes. Thorin and Gandalf ushered the others to the sides, between the two massive structures, where they were in the shadows and invisible from the road. The rest of the dwarrow were focused on catching their breath, while Oin returned to Thorin’s side, intent on checking the wound on his shoulder. 

Bilbo leaned against his side, looking as though he was going to slide down the wall at his back and fall asleep. Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s waist, pulling him closer, and Bilbo seemed just tired enough not to care that the others could see them. “What did you call me earlier?” the hobbit asked softly.

Thorin let out a soft chuckle and bent his head closer to Bilbo’s, so that Oin wouldn’t hear him. “ zyungel. Love of loves.” He leaned back just slightly, enough to see that Bilbo’s eyes were closed and his cheeks pink as he sucked in a sharp breath. “Would you prefer I didn’t?”

It was difficult to balance his feelings like this. He and Bilbo were courting now, but he knew that Bilbo’s feelings weren’t as deep as his, _yet_ he reminded himself, and he was ever aware of not wanting to pressure the hobbit. “No, I- I like it, actually. Just seems a shame I don’t have some secret word to call you,” Bilbo teasing, flashing a small smirk up at the dwarf. 

Thorin snorted and shrugged. “You can call me whatever you like. Hobbits don’t have their own language, though?”

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully. “Not really. There’s a dialect, and certain shorthand, but we predominantly speak Common.”

“I’ll need to get some water to clean this,” Oin cut in, and immediately Thorin tensed once more. Even a brief conversation with Bilbo was able to dispel the worst of his stress, but he couldn’t let himself forget what was coming. He could relax with his hobbit once they were at Beorn’s. 

Assuming the bear-man would let them stay with him once more. 

“Wait- Oin-” Thorin’s hand landed on the healer’s arm just as a howl cut through their air. He closed his eyes, both in relief and fear. While it was reassuring he wouldn’t have to come up with some inane excuse as to why Oin couldn’t go to the water, he had hoped for a little more time before another battle. 

Quickly, the dwarrow pressed more to the shadows of the structure that hid them from the road. Bilbo was tucked behind him, and he signed a quick plan to the others who were hidden on the other side. Dwalin and Ori nodded back to him and quickly informed the others that were with them. The sounds of heavy footsteps and paws came closer.

Thorin didn’t breathe as the sounds continued on. There had been a spike of fear that the wargs would smell them, and would give away their hiding spot before they could gain any advantage, but it seemed that even if the beasts smelled dwarf, their masters were convinced the dwarrow had gone to the ford that was below. It was close enough that he assumed they thought that was where the scent was coming from.

He could just hear the deep uttering of Black Speech as the sounds of the herd moved away, and Thorin let out a sigh of relief. As silently as they could, they moved towards the road. Thorin signed for Kili and Ori to stay on the bridge, to attack the herd from above while they were distracted with the others. “Bilbo, you should stay with them,” he whispered. The hobbit had pulled out his sword, which still glowed blue to match Thorin’s, and shot him a glare. “You’ll be safer.” 

“I’ll ask you to remember that I saved you last time,” Bilbo hissed back and for a moment, Thorin’s heart stopped. It took him far too long to figure out that the hobbit was referring to having stabbed the troll to free him, and not that the hobbit had somehow gained knowledge of Thorin’s previous life. 

After a pregnant pause, while all the dwarrow crept closer quietly, Thorin nodded. “Just be careful.” He grabbed Balin’s attention and signed for the white-haired dwarf to stay with Bilbo, and then squeezed the hobbit’s arm softly before he went to the front of the group. He trusted Balin to keep the hobbit towards the back and safe, and Thorin prayed desperately to Mahal that there would be no reason for Bilbo to confront Azog again.

Staying hidden in the trees was harder as they got closer to the herd and the Anduin. Finally, Thorin was close enough to hear the filth muttering in their language, and he could only imagine that they were grumbling about the missing dwarrow that should be there. A glance past the trees showed that Azog was pacing, as furious as ever. Before, Thorin had recklessly jumped into the fray and tried to rid the world of that pale menace. While he still wanted to do just that, his death had taught him to have just a bit more patience. 

He looked up at the ruined bridge, just able to see Kili standing on the edge of it, arrow notched while his face, and presumably eyes, were fixed on where the dwarrow were hiding. Ori was next to him, in the same position with his slingshot. Thorin glanced back at the orcs to make sure they hadn’t suspected anything, and then at what he could see of his Company. Gandalf was nearest to him, with his sword drawn and staff ready, with Dwalin and Dori behind two trees to his other side, weapons drawn. Everyone was ready. 

Thorin signed to Kili, his gestures a little bigger than usual to make sure that his nephew could see them. He saw Kili nod and turn his attention to the orcs below. A second later, there was the whistle of an arrow and a thump, followed by angry screeches of the orcs. Thorin leaned around the tree once more, taking a glance at the scene, only to see Kili and Ori loosing their weapons as fast as they could, and multiple wargs on the ground, their riders dislodged. From what he could see, that left about nearly three dozen orcs, not including Azog, and a few wargs. He trusted the two young dwarrow to focus on taking out the wargs and evening their odds even more. 

He looked back at his dwarrow and tightened his grip on Orcrist. He sent a silent prayer to Mahal that things would end up better this time, and before he could think any further on that, he ran out from behind his tree. A battle cry rose up behind him from Dwalin: _Baruk Khazad! Khazad ai-menu!_

The first orc that he met was still surprised, and it retained that expression even as Thorin separated it’s head from its body. He was able to fall into muscle memory; the familiar motions of battle and being surrounded by his dwarrow at his back was soothing, comfortable in a way. As he dispatched another orc, he kept an eye on Azog - he was glaring at Thorin from closer to the river, letting his orcs tire them out, just as last time. It made Thorin sneer. 

He couldn’t afford to lose focus, though. Azog wasn’t the point. A voice in the back of his head was silently congratulating him, and he imagined it was Mahal himself. Getting past these orcs, getting to safety for his company, getting his mountain back - those were the important things. Azog was just a distraction. 

He glanced around, noting that most of the wargs were dead, and he quickly signed again for Kili and Ori to join them on the ground. When he looked up at the bridge a moment later, he couldn’t see the young dwarrow, and he had to hope that it was because they had followed his instruction.

Azog was growing more agitated as the dwarrow moved closer and had joined the fray, wading towards Thorin. Nearly forty orcs really wasn’t that many, not compared to twelve dwarrow, all of whom had been raised for a battle just like this from the time they could walk. The Battle of Azanulbizar had proven that the dwarrow thrived under overwhelming odds against them, and he could tell that the Pale Orc was remembering the last time they had met. Thorin was tempted to smile grimly, but he pushed the urge down. 

If things worked out, wonderful, but he would not curse himself and his Company by being cocky again. 

The sounds of the river drowned out the sounds of the continuing battle around them, and Thorin gripped Orcrist tighter, waiting for the inevitable strike. 

He heard a whisper behind him, just his name, breathed out of fear from his hobbit. He couldn’t blame Bilbo - Azog was massive, easily twice the size of an average orc, and the meat hook that was stabbed into his arm to replace the one that Thorin had cut off did nothing to make him look less menacing.

There were enough orcs still alive that his Company couldn’t join him in the battle, though his lingering pride insisted that it was better this way. Azog was his to destroy; it was a foolish thought, and part of the reason he had died last time, but he couldn’t quite shake it. For all that he was thinking more rationally, he knew he would be upset if any but him killed Azog. He shook his head slightly to rid himself of the distracting thoughts, and the Pale Orc took his chance. Azog lunged towards him, quicker than one would think for a creature so large, and met Orcrist with a clang. 

Just as before, they were well matched. Not because Azog had particular skill - most orcs didn’t. The swings of his arm were sloppy, his footwork worse, but he made up for it with his size and the little bit stronger than he was. Every time their weapons met, Thorin felt the vibration crawl up his arm. Thorin had been training to fight since he was little, however, and set the Orc up to lower his defenses, cutting into the white flesh, though he wasn’t able to land a killing blow. 

The sounds around them were quieter, drowned out by the river and the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t let this be drawn out - he didn’t know if Azog had reinforcements nearby, and while forty orcs was manageable for their Company, more than that would be difficult to escape unscathed. 

The blows continued, though Thorin couldn’t say for how long. It felt as though it had been hours - all the times that he had gone against Azog blending in his mind. Azanulbizar, the cliff, Erebor, now; it felt as though his entire life had been defined by battling this one orc, and he was ready to be done with it. 

“Bilbo?!” Balin’s voice cut through the memories that Thorin was drowning in, and Thorin felt a gasp break through his sealed lips. Suddenly, the sounds around them came back, the clash of blades and grunts rising up until Thorin was confused as to how it had all faded in the first place. It could only have been for a few moments, then. Thorin glanced around as much as he could while still holding Azog off, but he couldn’t spot the hobbit anywhere. His eyes met with Balin’s for a split second, and he could see the fear and disappointment written in those light blue eyes - if something happened to Bilbo, Balin would blame himself completely. 

Thorin grunted as he swung at Azog, panic clutching at his heart, insisting that he ended this _now_ , that Bilbo was in danger and he was the only one who could save him, wherever he was. Azog seemed to pick up on his desperation though, and was pressing him back, and the sound of the river was getting louder. 

Thorin sneered and tried to push back, to regain ground, his sword swinging as fast as it could to try to cut through and get to Azog. 

Suddenly, Azog grunted and dropped to one knee. Thorin’s brow furrowed in confusion - all his strikes had been aimed at the orc’s chest and throat, but a quick glance at the filth’s showed a deep cut at his ankle, black blood gushing at a nearly alarming rate. Azog was clutching at it, trying to keep his meathook raised while his remaining hand tried to stem the blood flow. Thorin looked around, but there was no one around that was close enough to have cut the orc like that - his company was all engaged in their own battles. 

A stone of fear settled in the pit of his belly. Bilbo was wearing the ring.

Thorin swallowed, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that right now. He swung again, the strike glancing off the hook. It was as though time slowed down - the hook went down with the force of the strike, and Thorin’s blade bounced back, dipped, and then he was changing the momentum to swing again. 

Time snapped back into place as Azog’s head hit the ground and bounced twice before it settled. Thorin swallowed and raised his gaze to land on the Company. All of them were finishing off the last of the orcs, some more wounded than the others, but alive. 

All of them. 

Thorin’s fear remained as his eyes landed on Bilbo, who was leaning back against a tree sucking in great gulping breaths, his sword dripping with black blood. Thorin’s own chest was heaving as he made his way to the hobbit, noting somewhere in the back of his mind that the tree was far enough away that no one would suspect Bilbo of doing anything to Azog, if they didn’t know about the Ring. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, shoving his worry about the Ring to the back of his mind. Twice now that Bilbo had worn the Ring, but that was okay. He had worn it far more last time, and things had been fine for them. Thorin just didn’t want him to have to wear it any more than that if it could be avoided. 

Bilbo nodded, his free hand rising to gingerly touch his neck. “One of them tried to choke me,” he rasped, and Thorin frowned as his fingers traced over four small scratches on the side of Bilbo’s throat. The orc’s claws had gotten him there, but they were already scabbing. “I’m fine, otherwise.”

“Balin lost sight of you,” he murmured, his gaze still on Bilbo’s throat, taking in the wound, before checking him for any others. He didn’t miss the way the hobbit swallowed and then nodded jerkily. 

“I was in a bit of a panic. I ran a little,” he whispered, and Thorin watched as two spots of color appeared on Bilbo’s face. It wasn’t a lie, the dwarf could see that, but he knew it wasn’t the truth. 

He sighed softly and brushed his lips against Bilbo’s sweaty forehead. A light touch, but Bilbo clutched to his arms, holding him in place. “We can’t linger too long. I don’t know if there are more,” Thorin murmured. Bilbo swallowed once more before he leaned up, pressing a feather-light kiss to Thorin’s bearded jaw, and then released him. 

“I was worried about you,” Bilbo whispered. 

Thorin was sure that whatever expression he was making looked ridiculous. It was only the second true time that Bilbo had initiated a romantic touch with him, and it was enough to push his fear of the Ring away for the moment. Besides that, it wasn’t a huge revelation that Bilbo cared for him, would worry about him, but it felt that way anyway. He gave a quiet, awkward cough and stepped back to put more space between them. “Oin, can you look at Bilbo’s neck before we leave?”

“Aye, give me a moment.” He turned towards the healer, watching Oin bandage a cut on Bombur’s forehead. It was a decent size, but bleeding sluggishly. 

“Drink this.” Thorin handed Bilbo his waterskin. “Oin will probably want to give you tea when we make camp, but it’ll make your throat feel better.” This time, he merely glanced at Bilbo as the hobbit took the water, both of them more concerned with the others. 

Bofur was wrapping a bandage around Bifur’s torso under Oin’s instruction. Thorin could just see a sliver of blood, and he guessed that Bifur had been swiped with a sword, but clearly it wasn’t too serious if Oin was allowing someone else to tend to it. 

He crossed over to see Ori being fussed over by both Dori and Nori. “Is he alright?” Ori was attempting to wave his brothers off, but his movements were off just a little, and he seemed dazed. 

“One of them tackled him. Think he bumped his head or something,” Nori answered, his gaze never straying from his brothers. Thorin nodded, looking over the thief’s head to meet Dwalin’s gaze. Thorin would have smirked or teased his old friend about the concerned look on his face as he watched Ori, but kept it to himself as he noticed Dwalin holding a wadded up cloth of his thigh. 

“You were hurt?”

“It happens now and then,” Dwalin answered with a shrug. “Kili too. The lad has the worst luck, it seems, between the arrow and now.” Thorin’s eyes widened and immediately started trying to find his nephew. “Relax. It’s just a cut on his arm. It might not even scar.” 

Thorin sighed and nodded, clapping his friend on the arm before making his way to his nephews. Dwalin was right; the wound was superficial and on Kili’s forearm. Kili pouted slightly when it was pointed out that it wasn’t likely to scar, and Thorin couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

“How long until we can leave? I still don’t want to be too close to the goblins.” His question was directed at Oin, but the others nodded and Gandalf came up beside him. 

“An hour? I want to check everyone over.”

Thorin nodded. He pulled the few remaining uninjured dwarrow to help him dispose of the orc bodies. It didn’t take all that much effort between them all, and soon enough, a foul bonfire had been created, and Thorin watched with a grim satisfaction as most of the remains of Azog burned away. He would not be bothered by that foul beast again. 

The fire was left burning - with Azog’s head on a pike near it - when Oin declared them ready to travel. The carrock rose up next to them as they passed over the ford, and Thorin guessed that they would reach Beorn’s within a few hours. Hopefully, the skin-changer would still be in his Man form and be willing to give them shelter once more, even without an orc pack at their heels. 

Bilbo stayed by his side as they walked, just a little faster than normal in their haste to get away from the Misty Mountains and the Goblin tunnels beneath. For a little while, a comfortable silence was between them, until Thorin noticed that they were being given some distance - privacy from the Company in the only way that was possible. 

“I have a question about hobbit courting,” Thorin started, more for a conversation topic than any burning question he had. He and Bilbo had talked about courting customs a great deal while they were in Rivendell, and he thought that he understood it well enough. 

Bilbo’s lips quirked and he nodded to encourage Thorin to continue. “You said the second stage is a home cooked meal-”

“Are you worried about that? I am not expecting a huge feast, I promise, Thorin. It’s more symbolic than anything, after all. A show that you would provide for me.” 

Thorin grinned and nodded. “I appreciate that. I have some knowledge around a campfire. It may not be anything compared to what we made at your smial but it will still be edible.” 

The hobbit flushed faintly and nodded. “What was your question, then?”

“Well, you mentioned seven courting rituals, which I remember because it is the same for dwarrow. But I only remember you listing six. The flowers, the meal, a game together, the gift, meeting one another’s family, and another handmade gift. Not in that order.” 

“Ah. You remembered all that?” Thorin didn’t think he was imagining that the blush on Bilbo’s face had grown, and that dispelled any fears that he may have had about why Bilbo would keep one of the steps from him. Whatever was the missing step, Bilbo found it embarrassing to speak about.

“It is important to me. You’re important to me.”

There was a brief pause, in which Thorin watched with some fascination as Bilbo’s blush deepened, and he had to resist the urge to comment on how adorable his One was. 

“Physical compatibility,” Bilbo muttered. Thorin was sure that he hadn’t heard correctly, and just blinked at the hobbit for a moment, his feet carrying him forwards automatically so he could continue staring at Bilbo. 

“I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say-”

“I did. A hobbit’s main goal in life is to be as comfortable and to partake in as much pleasure as possible. Our courting reflects that,” Bilbo explained. He was using the same tone as when he was answering any of Thorin’s questions, though this was a far cry from their conversation about the flower language. “Physical compatibility is an important step, and that’s why it is supposed to happen so early, though it certainly doesn’t have to. It’d be silly to go through all the others though, and discover that you don’t match well in the bedroom.” 

Thorin was able to dislodge the toad that seemed to have taken up residence in his throat. “How early?”

“After the meal.” 

Mahal. It wasn’t that he had any sort of issue with being physical with Bilbo. He had needed to go off on his own to take care of his arousal more times than he could count, and the mere idea of getting to touch Bilbo in such a way-

“Would you be comfortable with that?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow at Thorin’s question, and he resisted the urge to rub the back of his head nervously. How was it that this hobbit could render a king of dwarrow so shy and awkward? “I just mean because you haven’t been all that comfortable with more obvious touches, in front of the others.” 

Bilbo’s eyes widened almost comically large. “Do dwarrow… in front of others?” The hobbit’s voice took on a distinctly squeaky quality, and Thorin winced. 

“Not as a rule, no. Some do, but most prefer that their One is for their eyes only.” 

“Oh, good,” Bilbo breathed. “Yes, I- Of course I would be.” Thorin scoffed quietly to himself, but of course, Bilbo noticed. “Just because I am not used to being able to show my affection in public doesn’t mean that I don’t want to.” Thorin recognized the warning tone in Bilbo’s voice, and chose to merely nod in understanding. 

“And if we’re not…. Compatible?”

“Do you really believe that will be an issue?” Thorin shrugged. That was a lot of pressure to put on their first time laying together, and while Thorin was sure in how well matched they were, he would hate to muck it up just because their first time together may not go perfectly. “I don’t think it will be a problem, Thorin.” The dwarf almost missed how Bilbo glanced behind them before letting his eyes rake over Thorin’s body, so intently that he could almost feel the heat of that gaze. “Besides, it’s not about being perfect at first, but discovering if we are well matched and willing to learn together.” 

Thorin let out a sigh of relief. That was much more manageable. “After the meal then?”

Bilbo’s lovely laugh broke through the silence surrounding them, and Thorin couldn’t help but smile to himself. “It doesn’t have to be immediately after! But yes. Don’t worry about it so much, sweetheart. We have time.” 

_Sweetheart._ Thorin’s joy swept over him, and he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if this was how it could have been last time, if he hadn’t made so many errors or judged Bilbo so harshly. Looking over at the hobbit now, he tried not to focus on it too much. This was how it was now, and it was leagues better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi at my [tumblr!](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/)


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beorn's land is as amazing as usual, and the Big Man himself enjoys needling at Thorin too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're moving ahead with some plot and some Bagginshield progress! I'm really happy with this chapter, and I've noticed I tend to enjoy the fluffier chapters lol There will be plenty of action in the ones coming up, don't worry ;)

Despite himself, Thorin let himself hope that things would be smooth now until they reached the mountain. He was close to figuring out what to do about Thranduil - he had a vague idea, at the least - and if they weren’t locked up in Mirkwood, they wouldn’t be in a rush to reach the mountain before Durin’s Day. He tried not to get ahead of himself, to not let Azog’s defeat go to his head, to not get lost in fantasies about how it might feel to be able to touch Bilbo the way he wanted...

Well, some thoughts were harder to stay away from than others. 

Gandalf led the way to Beorn’s. When Thorin thought they were getting close, he reluctantly left Bilbo’s side to walk with the wizard. “Last time, we came to him in pairs to not overwhelm him. I think it just made him annoyed,” Thorin murmured. Gandalf’s answering hum was considering, encouraging, and Thorin continued thinking aloud. “I think we should approach him as we are, and then I’ll speak to him privately and explain.”

“Explain what?”

“Everything, to a point. He likes stories, and hates orcs. He became somewhat of an ally last time, and I would have him be so again.” Gandalf hummed again, and Thorin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Gandalf would share whatever he was thinking, part of it anyhow, but that didn’t make the waiting easier. 

“Are you sure we should tell him all of it?”

“Yes. I got the sense that he could spot untruths with as much skill as a dragon. He has no great love for dwarrow, but I will change that. Well - I’ll do whatever I can to change that.” He could tell that Gandalf didn’t agree, but there was very little that the wizard could do to stop him. Beorn appreciated honesty, and he had a feeling that the shapeshifter would be able to tell _something_ more was going on. He had always made Thorin feel as though he knew more than any other mere mortal should.

As they drew closer to the hedges that surrounded Beorn’s land, the repetitive sound of an axe striking wood echoed over the expanse. Thorin led the way around the large house, and he heard his company draw to a stop as they caught their first sight of the man. 

He was far larger than any man Thorin had ever seen - in either life. He was taller than Gandalf by a good two feet and wild looking. His arms rippled with muscles as he swung the axe again. Hardy as dwarrow were, he could not blame them for coming up short in shock at the sight of a being that could pick them up one handed with little effort. The animals that were milling about looked at them with a curiosity that belied their intelligence, and Thorin took a few more steps forward. 

Beorn continued chopping the wood, as though he had no idea that his land had been intruded on, but Thorin did not himself be fooled. “Greetings, Master Beorn,” Thorin called out, waiting to bow until he saw the skinchanger glance over at him. 

“Do I know you?” The Northman continued on his chore, and Thorin held a smile back. Beorn had tolerated him last time, though he’d been very fond of Bilbo, but he welcomed the gruff tone. 

“No, but I know you, and would have you know me once more.” The statement did what Thorin hoped: Gandalf stifled a groan and he saw the wizard glance back at the company out of the corner of his eye while Beorn paused in his chopping, presumably from confusion. 

“Meaning?” Beorn slammed his axe into the wood stump he had been using before turning to face Thorin, and he didn’t miss the way the Northman’s eyes glanced at his shoulder. He didn’t know what beings could see the mark, or if Beorn only sensed it, but it served to pique the skinchanger’s curiosity. 

“If you would offer my companions rest in your home, I will explain what I mean in full detail. I can guarantee it is a good story, and even if you send us away after that, I will be in your debt.” 

Balin sucked in a breath from somewhere behind him. Even if he was not truly king yet, acknowledging that he owed someone was not to be stated lightly. A rumbling hum came from Beorn as he considered, before Thorin was given a nod. “Very well. You may use my home to rest and eat while we talk. Do not harm the animals.” For a brief second, Beorn’s face changed, becoming more animalistic itself, as though to show a glimpse of what was in store for any who disobeyed that order. 

“You have my word, your animals will not be touched,” Thorin answered. He gave Gandalf a nod and the wizard ushered the Company towards the long house, like a mother goose driving her hatchlings forward. Bilbo glanced between Thorin and the large man, concern and confusion shining in those aquamarine eyes. 

Thorin offered him a reassuring smile, which grew by a fraction as Bilbo reached out and squeezed his hand. It was a brief touch, but it made a warmth blaze in his chest. “Thank you, Master Beorn!” Bilbo flashed the skinchanger a smile, which was only slightly shaky, before darting after the rest of the Company. Both Thorin and Beorn watched him disappear inside before returning their gazes to one another. 

“Your story, then, Master Dwarf?”

Thorin nodded and closed some of the distance. He eased himself down to sit against the stump of wood, very aware of the axe that was buried in it, next to his head. He took a second to reassure himself - if Beorn didn’t like his story and wanted to kill him, he would likely do so as the bear, not with something so mundane as a wood axe. 

“As I said I have met you before. Under similar situations, though I have managed to change a few things, which means I am in better shape to make your acquaintance.”

“Speak plainly. My patience wears thin.” 

Thorin couldn’t keep the grin from his face this time, and he craned his head to look over the stump and into the house to see if any of his Company was listening. His nephews, maybe, or Bofur and Bilbo. He couldn’t see any, and he turned back to Beorn to see him glancing between Thorin and the house as well.

“I will let you know if any venture within hearing distance. I’ll be able to smell them before they could hear us, if that is what you’re concerned about,” Beorn said. A frown pulled at his lips and Thorin nodded, settling in to tell his story. 

“Shortly after I met you before, I died.” One of Beorn’s thick eyebrows rose, but he stayed silent. “I awoke in the Halls of Mahal, and met my Maker, who was not pleased with how I had lived the last portion of my life. He had picked a destiny for me and while I had technically accomplished it, he felt I could do better. So he gave me life back, and enough time to make the changes that he would like to see.” 

Beorn blinked slowly. The only indication he gave that he was considering the story was how his gaze strayed to Thorin’s shoulder. “I’m listening.” 

Thorin nodded and started from when he woke up back in the Shire. He tried to not go into too much detail, aware of his exhaustion and the throbbing in his shoulder, but it took him an hour of narrating for him to get to Rivendell. A small smile played at Beorn’s lips and he leaned forward slightly, giving Thorin most of his attention, though he continued watching for eavesdroppers. 

A sheep brought a flask of water, and Thorin cut himself off to take a drink. “This Bilbo is your mate?”

Thorin blinked, and raised an eyebrow at the man. “I told you that I died and came back to life, and that’s the part you’re focusing on?”

Beorn scoffed. “You dwarves-”

“Dwarrow.”

“ _Dwarves_ ,” Beorn continued, pointedly ignoring both Thorin’s correction and his scoff. “Always focus on the battles and bloodshed. I get enough of that with the filth that surrounds my land. I cannot be blamed for wanting to focus on happiness, on relationships and family.” 

Thorin took another sip. His gaze trailed over the grassy fields, filled with all sorts of plant life that he couldn’t dream of naming - though he had no doubt that Bilbo could - and animals of all sorts, but no other beings. None like Beorn, certainly, and the only others that could speak to the Northman had been brought with Thorin. For the first time, he was ashamed to admit, he considered just how lonely Beorn might be. 

“Are there no others like you?”

Beorn gave him a hard stare that Thorin returned blankly. After a moment, Beorn relaxed, apparently seeing that Thorin was genuinely curious and not intending to pick at an old wound. “Perhaps far North, where we came from. This land used to have many of my kind, but we suffered at the hands of Azog the Defiler. I alone escaped.” 

As short as the explanation was, Thorin could sense the skinchanger’s pain. When asked about his own people’s suffering, he did not go into great detail either, so he couldn’t blame the Man. What else was needed? Why should the gory details be shared, when it did nothing to lessen the pain?

“If it eases any of your suffering, Azog is dead,” Thorin offered with a sigh. “That was the conclusion of my story, for now. We went through Goblin Town and managed to surprise Azog and his pack. We burned the bodies by the Old Ford, if you want to see.” 

Beorn only nodded. Thorin imagined that he would take to his bear form in the night and go check on his story, much as he had last time. “As for your question about Bilbo, yes, he is my One. I was hoping you would allow us to stay for awhile and give me leave to use your kitchen to further our courtship.”

For the first time that Thorin could recall, he saw Beorn smile. Well, it was more of a lascivious grin, and slightly terrifying nonetheless. “I did not think that dwarves-”

“Dwarrow,” Thorin corrected automatically. His feeling that Beorn was intentionally using the wrong word was confirmed by Beorn’s smirk. 

“-were so public in their mating,” Beorn finished, as though Thorin had not spoken. 

“We-” It took a moment for Thorin to understand what Beorn meant, and then he let out a put upon sigh before pulling himself to his feet. “We’re not! The next stage of Hobbit courting is a _meal_ ,” he explained.

Beorn waved his hand as he rose to his feet, somehow more gracefully than Thorin had managed in his injured state, despite his size. “Use my kitchen or whatever you need to court your mate. Your Company may stay as long as you need, provided Azog is truly dead.”

Thorin nodded. Azog’s head had been left on a pike before the burn pile, so Beorn would quickly get his confirmation. “Thank you. I appreciate you hearing me out.” 

“There was something about you,” Beorn offered, his gaze landing on Thorin’s shoulder once more. “Now that I know what it is, and the service you have done for my people, I may be inclined to believe that particular dwarves are not so bad.”

Thorin pressed his lips together and watched the Northman out of the corner of his eye. Slowly another grin formed on his large face, and Thorin shook his head before murmuring, “Dwarrow.” 

He left behind a laughing Beorn and went into the house to find most of his Company spread out in the large room in front of a fireplace, sleeping. Gandalf sat up once he entered, but Thorin held up a hand. “He knows, and he is letting us stay as long as we need. He is going to double check that Azog is dead, which gives me a few hours, at least, to sleep.” 

The wizard scowled and put his pipe back in his mouth. Thorin was sure that he had a speech or some great wisdom to impart about what the next steps should be, but after nearly two days of no sleep, he couldn’t be bothered to placate the wizard’s feelings. Instead, he divested himself of most of his armor and curled up next to Bilbo. Orcrist rested on the floor next to him, just in case, but he let himself get pulled into glorious sleep with the smell of honey and pipeweed surrounding him. 

~*~*~*~

Waking up next to Bilbo was the second best feeling in the world - that he had experienced so far, at least. It was only beaten by the feeling of someone running his fingers through his hair, which he had not experienced in nearly a century. Dis would touch his hair to help him with his braids sometimes, but feeling someone’s fingers trailing through his hair just for pure enjoyment or comfort had not happened since his mother died. 

“Is this alright?” Bilbo murmured, his voice hardly louder than a whisper as his fingers continued working through Thorin’s dark strands. “Everyone left rather quickly after I woke.”

“Did you immediately start playing with my hair?” he whispered back. Thorin kept his eyes closed, and merely let himself enjoy the moment. 

“I suppose so? It’s something I’ve been wanting to do, and since we’re courting-” Bilbo’s fingers stilled for a second, and Thorin nudged against his hand, silently begging him to continue, not unlike a cat. The hobbit let out a soft laugh, and his fingers moved once more. 

“It’s considered very intimate to dwarrow,” Thorin answered after a moment. “We’re not demonstrative in public, and most keep such caresses to the bedroom.” Bilbo hummed once more, and Thorin feared that he would stop again. “However, since no one is here and this is where we slept, I would say this is our bedroom at the moment.” 

His very flimsy argument had the desired effect and Bilbo let out a laugh, unable to keep his voice quiet as he had been. Thorin grinned to himself and finally let his eyes drift open. It was later in the morning than Thorin usually slept, though that was hardly surprising, considering none of them had slept in more than two days. Sunlight was shining behind Bilbo, making him seem hazy and ethereal. There was still a small smile pulling at his One’s lips, and Thorin felt he could have easily stayed as they were, looking at each other fondly. 

“Oakenshield.” Beorn’s loud and rumbling voice broke their peace, and Bilbo pulled away from him quickly. Thorin let out a disgruntled sigh but stood and looked at the Man, not bothering to hide his displeasure. Beorn merely grinned at him in response. “Let me show you where I keep everything so you can make a meal for your little bunny.”

“Bunny?!”

Thorin did his best to hide a grin behind a yawn as Beorn offered Bilbo a shrug. “Big feet, pointy ears. Bunny.” Bilbo sputtered in indignation, and Thorin felt as though he was going to choke with how hard he was trying to keep back a laugh. He couldn’t exactly fault Beorn’s reasoning for the nickname, and Thorin knew enough of the Man that Bilbo’s reaction only meant that it would stick. 

He ushered Beorn back out of the house, as much as he could, and let the big man show him where to get eggs and honey, as well as his store of ready to use vegetables. Beorn kept up a steady stream of commentary of how he had occupied his time while the dwarrow caught up on sleep, including detailing in gruesome detail how he further desecrated Azog’s remains. Apparently the burn pile the dwarrow had created was too respectful for the likes of orcs.

The next few days were spent with Bilbo, in idle conversations about their lives or cultures. If he wasn’t with Bilbo, which was fairly rare, he was with Bombur, figuring out what he could make for the hobbit that was within his skillset. 

“At least you don’t have to worry about cooking meat,” Bombur pointed out, flashing Thorin a grin as they made their way to the hens’ area. “It can be tricky, with the over or under cooking. Vegetables and the like are a bit more forgiving.” 

Thorin hummed noncommittally. He may have felt more confident with meat, actually. He, at least, was able to cook it to where he didn’t mind it, but both Bombur and Bilbo were a bit more picky about food, given how much they both loved it. 

He kept looking over his shoulder as Bombur chatted excitedly about the dish they were going to make. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Bilbo knowing that he had enlisted help - he would be honest, if asked, and Bombur was only there to provide instruction, anyway. Thorin would be the one doing the actual cooking. But he wanted it to be a surprise, and Gandalf had been becoming steadily more vocal about leaving the haven of Beorn’s land soon. He was running out of time. 

Luckily, his nephews could always be counted on to provide distractions. Though, Thorin tried to not think too hard about how they might be distracting his hobbit. He was sure it was something more akin to terrorizing him, and he could only hope that Bilbo stayed in the good mood that he had been in for the past several days. 

In Beorn’s kitchen, Bombur plopped himself in a chair at the table as Thorin arranged all the vegetables they agreed upon. From Bombur’s description, it would be a simple dish, a hash of vegetables with eggs on top. Of course, simple as it was, the actual cooking was trying to Thorin, who was impatient on the best of days, and having to chop a ton of vegetables was hardly what he would consider a worthwhile pursuit. Only the reminder that Bilbo would likely enjoy it, and the possibility of getting to finally kiss the hobbit’s soft lips kept him from complaining too much.

“Careful! You don’t want them burned!” Bombur warned, and Thorin snapped back to himself. Thinking about Bilbo’s lips was a dangerous pastime. Bombur came up behind him to guide him through frying the eggs.

“Why is this just as difficult as forging?” Thorin muttered, not taking his eyes from the eggs as they slowly solidified. 

Bombur let out a soft hum. “More so, in some ways. Dwarrow know more than most that food is precious, you and the refugees from Erebor especially. No one thinks twice about having to remake a sword or necklace four or five times from scrap to get it perfect, because the cast offs can be reused. Food isn’t like that. You get one chance, and if you mess up, there’s no saving it. It feels like a waste.” Thorin grumbled slightly, and Bombur let out a soft laugh. “Take them off now,” he directed. “Luckily, this time turned out well, and you don’t have to worry about that.”

“You’re sure it’s good?”

“Have you ever known me to make something that didn’t taste good?” Thorin shook his head, even while he opened his mouth to provide the logical argument. Bombur waved a hand in his air, dispelling it before Thorin could get the words out. “No offense, majesty, but I was directing you so much that I may as well have made it. You were just a tool for my genius,” he finished. He grinned and patted Thorin on the shoulder, and seemed to firmly ignore the glare Thorin sent his way. 

Apparently being closer to his Company even sooner than last time meant they were all far more comfortable to tease him. Thorin let it go. He didn’t mind - far from it - and it had gotten him the help he needed.

Thorin went and set up the plates of food in a secluded spot he found while Bombur went and told Bilbo where to meet him. The plates didn’t look near fancy enough for something so important, and as he waited, he felt as though he would be overwhelmed with nerves. No amount of reassuring himself that he and Bilbo were destined, or that Bilbo seemed to be moving past his concerns of being with another male, of being with _Thorin_ , seemed to dispel the doubt that was threatening to consume him. No, it wasn’t until he saw Bilbo rounding the corner of the barn, moving cautiously despite his obvious curiosity, did he let himself relax.

Once Bilbo seemed to put together what was happening, a grin lit up his face and he quickly closed the distance until he was sitting next to Thorin. Thorin had thought to cover the food so that it didn’t cool too much while he was waiting, and he could tell that Bilbo’s curiosity was eating him up at not knowing what they would be eating. 

“Bombur refused to tell me why I need to go meet with you immediately behind the barn,” Bilbo started, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he met Thorin’s anxious gaze. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the hobbit seemed to see some of his nerves in his gaze. Bilbo’s smile immediately softened and he took Thorin’s hand in his smaller one, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m sure it’s delicious, dear.”

Thorin let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking his head slightly. It wasn’t the first time that Bilbo had called him _dear_ , though all the other times were in a different life and had always taken on a sarcastic edge. He could still feel the sarcasm, even though he knew that Bilbo didn’t intend for there to be a bite to the endearment. “I couldn’t help but think that dwarven courting is much simpler.”

“Oh, yes, because crafting seven different gifts all made from your own hand and with all different meanings themselves is much simpler.” Bilbo shook his head and grinned, as though he couldn’t believe that Thorin would say something so stupid. 

That was a familiar expression at least, and made Thorin feel more at ease, though the feeling of being out of his depth lingered. It probably would too, until they actually ate and Bilbo told him what he thought of the food. 

“Bombur and I came up with it, I’ll admit. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about my abilities.” His words came out haltingly as he lifted the coverings. On Beorn’s rough plates laid a mound of cooked vegetables, a riot of color underneath two fried eggs. 

“Oh,” Bilbo breathed. He leaned against Thorin’s side, and he had to remind himself that Bilbo was a _hobbit_. He likely saw this simple plate and truly saw the idea behind it, that Thorin would always be there to provide for him, and not just a plate of sustenance as most dwarrow would. It was the only way he could make sense of the way that Bilbo lit up even more. “This is a lot better than I was expecting.”

“What were you thinking I would do? Give you a slice of bread?”

“Well, I figured you would at least put some honey on it first.” 

Just like that, Thorin’s anxiety was gone, and he met Bilbo’s eyes. For the first time, he truly saw that Bilbo returned his feelings, that he wasn’t just deluding himself into thinking that he could have this sort of happiness. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to lean forward slightly, slowly enough that Bilbo could pull back if he wanted. The hobbit, however, a creature bent on constantly surprising Thorin, met his lips without any hesitation. 

It was easy to get lost in such a kiss. Bilbo’s lips were as soft as he had always believed, and moved against Thorin’s with a gentle pressure. Thorin cupped Bilbo’s cheek, his thumb brushing over the novel smoothness tenderly as Bilbo licked his bottom lip softly, a silent request that Thorin was all too willing to grant. It felt as though he could stay in this moment forever, lost in a sea of soft touches, quiet contented sighs, and languid kisses. 

He couldn’t say how long they sat together, enjoying the taste of each other, before the kisses took on a more needy quality, before it became more difficult for Thorin to breathe because he was too far away from Bilbo and needed more. 

With a soft kiss to his bottom lip, Bilbo pulled back, and only a small hand gently pressing to Thorin’s chest kept him from chasing after. “We need to actually eat the food,” Bilbo murmured, a soft smile pulling at his lips even as his gaze stayed firmly on Thorin’s lips. 

Thorin sighed and nodded, and pulled back to put slightly more space between them. He watched, fondly and only slightly nervously, as Bilbo tried both the hash and the egg separately, and then all of it together, before giving his approval. With the last of his nerves dispelled, Thorin let himself eat as well as Bilbo complimented the cooking and kept up a steady stream of soft commentary. 

Bilbo finished his plate first unsurprisingly, and Thorin hardly hesitated before offering his last forkful to the hobbit. Bilbo looked at him, shocked, though Thorin couldn’t understand why. “Bilbo?”

His voice was soft, and seemed to snap the hobbit out of whatever thoughts had taken over him and caused the flush to rise on his cheeks. Thorin wanted to ask about it, but Bilbo was leaning forward slowly, taking the food from Thorin’s fork while never looking away, and he felt as though he had stumbled into a Hobbit custom he had no hope of understanding. 

For a moment, as Bilbo sat back and watched dumbfounded as Thorin straightened up their meal, he worried that whatever error he made wasn’t too grievous. “Are you alright?”

Bilbo hummed, seemingly slowly coming back to himself as he reached out to Thorin. “You remember what you were telling me about playing with a dwarf’s hair a few days ago?” He nodded, confused by the sudden shift in topic, and Bilbo offered him an amused grin as he reached up and fingered the ends of Thorin’s dark strands. “What you just did - offering me a bite of your own food, your last bite, at that - is very similar.” 

He let out a soft _ah_ of understanding and tried to think of something to say that wasn’t admitting how terrified he had been, but before he could come up with something, Bilbo was scrambling closer to him and kissing him once again. 

“I thought-” It was difficult to even think of speaking when his lap was suddenly full of an amorous hobbit. Thorin pulled Bilbo closer, and let himself forget what he was going to say for the moment. He was sure it wasn’t all that important, not when compared to Bilbo’s warm weight on him, the hobbit’s legs encircling his waist, and his fingers in Thorin’s hair once more. 

That neediness to be closer, to have Bilbo all around him until he couldn’t think of anything else, came back and only grew, and only the thought of possibly passing out from lack of oxygen made him stop kissing his One. 

Their chests were heaving as they sucked in greedy lungfuls, and Thorin rested his forehead against Bilbo’s, unable to keep his hands from wandering over the expanse of Bilbo’s back. He was finding himself increasingly annoyed by the shifting fabric under his fingertips and wanted it gone. 

“You were going to say something,” Bilbo pointed out softly. 

“Before you accosted me?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo laughed quietly even as his blush deepened. “You said that the physical step doesn’t need to happen immediately?” His words sounded more breathless than usual, and he wanted to chalk that up to Bilbo still being in his lap, rather than the overwhelming desire to just pick Bilbo up and have his way with him. 

Bilbo, apparently, saw right through him, however. The hobbit grinned and sat up, rolling his hips forward just slightly in a way that completely took Thorin’s breath away once more. “It doesn’t need to,” he agreed. Bilbo’s lips brushed against his again, far softer than before. “There’s nothing saying that it can’t, though.” 

Thorin was sure that the grip he had on Bilbo’s waist had to be near painful, but the hobbit merely continued to grin at him, as though offering him a challenge to pick up. 

“Right. How about we go into that barn then?” Bilbo grinned and nodded before he clambered off Thorin’s lap. Thorin’s mind was swimming as he took the hobbit’s hand and let himself be led towards the barn. He had known that, eventually, he would have his wish of knowing Bilbo in such a way, but he had hardly prepared for this. Any anxiety he may have felt was banished as his hobbit shot him a cheeky smile over his shoulder before he stepped into the dark of the barn. 

Unexpected, yes, but Thorin found that Bilbo’s surprises were always enjoyable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know! next chapter is going to be all smut, so if you don't want to read that, you can skip right to chapter 14 to pick up the story. 
> 
> Come say hi at my [tumblr](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/), as always! I always enjoy answering questions and talking to readers!


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut! Skip to the next chapter if that's not your thing.

The barn wasn’t as empty as they might have liked, though there were only a few ponies inside. They were far too intelligent looking, like all of Beorn’s animals, and there was a silent agreement that they would not be having their first coupling with an audience, four legged or not. Thorin spotted a ladder leading to a hayloft though, and he helped Bilbo up. 

“This would be easier if someone didn’t get me excited beforehand,” Thorin grumbled, and Bilbo let out a laugh from above him. Thorin was giving him a boost between rungs and made no effort to hide the fact that he was using the opportunity to squeeze the shapely bottom that had been haunting his dreams the past few weeks. Each time he did so, Bilbo let out a soft huff that sounded so much like a giggle that Thorin grinned to himself. 

“I will make sure to take into account if we’ll be climbing ladders that are made for beings three times our size before I make any future advances, shall I?”

Thorin let out a hum and watched as Bilbo disappeared from his sight, presumably getting comfortable on the hay. It would have been a fairly short ladder for Beorn, but it took him far longer than he would have liked to get to the top. The sight of Bilbo divesting himself of his tattered waistcoat as soon as reached it, though, was enough motivation for him to hurry and finish the journey. 

Thorin slightly regretted his decision to leave his cloak behind in the house. He knew that no harm would come to them while they were on Beorn’s land and had been only wearing trousers and a tunic for the past few days, and so he had nothing to spread on the floor to spare Bilbo’s soft skin. 

“You’re thinking too much.” Thorin had been glaring at the floor of the loft, trying to come up with a solution quickly before the opportunity was lost. Bilbo stepped into his line of sight and immediately tangled his fingers with Thorin’s, completely distracting him from any other train of thought. 

His hand settled on Bilbo’s ample waist and he grinned as Bilbo pressed against him. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he said, pointedly looking at the hard wood and the dry hay that would surely end up poking them at some point. 

Bilbo hummed and his hands wandered. They tugged at his braids to pull him down into a kiss, then cut warm trails over his shoulders, down his chest, anywhere that Bilbo could touch. Thorin held him close and focused more of his attention on the hobbit’s lips, so he didn’t notice when Bilbo moved and took Thorin with him, turning them in place, or when he guided Thorin backwards.

The back of his legs bumped a bale of hay, and he sat automatically, pleasantly surprised when Bilbo settled on his lap once more. “This-” Thorin pressed another kiss to Bilbo’s bottom lip, all too aware of all the ways that Bilbo was touching him. “Is certainly a solution,” he finished, murmuring the words into the hobbit’s jaw. 

“You didn’t seem to mind before,” Bilbo agreed. He tilted his head to the side, offering Thorin a clear path. It was maddening having Bilbo so close and yet unable to touch as much as he wanted. He sealed his lips to the hobbit’s throat, intent on laying claim to the smooth skin, while his fingers worked at the buttons of Bilbo’s shirt. 

Bilbo seemed content with letting Thorin do as he liked, if the soft gasps and ways that his hips rolled, seeking friction, was any indication. Soon enough, Thorin tossed the useless garment away and ignored Bilbo’s half-hearted cry of indignation at treating it so carelessly in favor of exploring the new expanse of skin. 

He had seen Bilbo topless before, though it had been in his previous life. Bilbo had been much more secretive about his body this time, and Thorin had to assume it was due to knowing of Thorin’s interest so early on. Thorin wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. He groaned into Bilbo’s sternum as his cock reminded him that pressing against the hobbit in such a way was a lovely feeling. 

It could be ignored for the moment, though. Much as he wanted Bilbo, he didn’t want to rush this. He had spent too much time thinking about what Bilbo would feel like between this life and the last, and he was going to savor this. 

Bilbo was unblemished. He had known that, comparatively, the hobbit had had a soft life, and Thorin explored the evidence of that life with his lips, taking in only as much of the sight as he could without pulling his head back. He grinned against Bilbo’s chest as his One let out a giggling moan as Thorin’s beard brushed against his nipple, and he made sure to repeat the action. 

Bilbo leaned back slightly, enough to allow Thorin to continue his downward travel. “Thank you,” he whispered. Bilbo’s hips had started moving more urgently against his about halfway through his exploration, and there were familiar impatient noises coming from above that prompted him to drop his hand to Bilbo’s trousers and begin undoing the laces. 

“Oh, yes, yes, please.”

“You could have asked earlier,” he pointed out teasingly. Whatever retort that Bilbo was attempting to come up with was cut off as Thorin finally got the laces undone enough to slip his hand inside of Bilbo’s trousers and run a finger over the length of velvet skin. Anymore than that was impossible at the angle they were at. 

Bilbo moaned, a needy whine buried within the sound, that Thorin wanted to hear more of; he captured the hobbit’s nipple between his lips and sucked at it gently. “Stand up.” Thorin trailed his nose over Bilbo’s breastbone, watching with fascination as a trail of gooseflesh pebbled in the wake of his beard from the motion. When Bilbo still hadn’t moved, Thorin leaned back and raised his eyebrow expectantly. He didn’t want any distance between them either, but it was impossible to go further with the trousers in the way.

“Didn’t think about this,” Bilbo muttered as he slid off of Thorin’s lap and quickly divested himself of his remaining clothing, to Thorin’s immense pleasure. Most of Bilbo was unfamiliarly smooth; there was a light dusting of dark blonde hair from his bellybutton into the darker, curly patch above his stout cock, and Thorin’s mouth watered at the idea of covering Bilbo in his love marks. “Well? Go on, you too. Be rather stupid if we just have to get up again in a few moments to take your clothes off as well.”

“You just want a reward you haven’t worked for.” 

“Haven’t worked for?! Why, you cheeky-” Bilbo outrage cut off abruptly, and Thorin finished tossing off his shirt to see Bilbo’s stunned expression. He couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips as his hobbit continued looking slightly dumbfounded and reached out to trail his fingers over Thorin’s chest, minutely displacing the whirls of dark hair. “Don’t think you can end an argument just by taking off your shirt,” Bilbo added after a moment. 

He continued watching as Thorin rose, his gaze roving hungrily, and he doubted that Bilbo missed any detail as Thorin got rid of the last of his clothing as well. “It seems to be an effective tactic, though,” Thorin pointed out. He knew that he was grinning far more than he ever had before when being intimate with someone - talking more too, really - but he couldn’t help but be slightly amused at how his naked form seemed to have distracted Bilbo so thoroughly. 

It would be more accurate to say that it had focused Bilbo, to a point where even words were useless, which Thorin found somewhat surprising. Bilbo _always_ had something to say. He could hardly complain, though, as Bilbo stretched up on his toes to adhere himself to Thorin again. “Thorin-” The dwarf wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s waist once more, hauling him closer even as he sat back on the bale of hay. It wasn’t comfortable in the least, with hay poking in unfortunate places, but he couldn’t care. Not when Bilbo was in his lap and practically begging him to touch him. 

“Wait, wait-” Bilbo’s huff made Thorin still completely and he looked at the hobbit with wide eyes. He let go of his One, only enough to say that he had done so, but his arms hovered awkwardly at Bilbo’s sides as he tried to figure out what he had done wrong. “Oh, darling, don’t look at me like that. I just forgot-” Thorin resisted the urge to grumble, just barely, as Bilbo stood again and padded over to his discarded clothes. It was only the opportunity to admire his hobbit’s ample backside, his gaze hungrily taking in every bit of pudge that he wanted to grab on to, that kept him from voicing his complaint.

Of course, his desire to object to the new distance between them was curbed by Bilbo crouching and then standing with a triumphant grin as he held up a small vial. “Is that oil? Were you planning on seducing me all along, _amrâlimê_?” 

A very pretty blush crawled over Bilbo’s cheeks as he shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.” Thorin raised an eyebrow and leaned back slightly on the hay bale, leaning back on his arm and taking full advantage of how Bilbo’s gaze was wandering over his body again. “Well, Beorn had this vial just sitting out on the counter this morning, and I figured he wouldn’t notice it missing - there was a far larger jar right next to it, after all.”

Thorin snorted to himself and covered his face with his hand. Bilbo settled himself once more on his lap as he was struggling to control his laughter. “You realize he probably left it out for exactly this purpose. He knows I’m courting you, and he did mention - erm, mating.” 

“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to thank him later. Unless, of course, you’re okay with me doing so now, since you can’t stop giggling like a tween?”

Thorin sobered quickly and shot an unamused look at Bilbo, which only served to make his hobbit grin. He may have worried about how their conversation and interruptions would ruin the opportunity, but just having Bilbo touching him was enough to keep his interest up, and he quickly wrapped his arm around the hobbit’s waist once more as the vial was set down next to him on the bale. 

Their lips met once more with soft kisses as they both took the opportunity to explore the other with their hands. Bilbo couldn’t seem to decide where he wanted to touch - his hands moved continuously over Thorin’s broad shoulders, his biceps, his pectorals. Thorin noticed, though, that he seemed to spend the most time just running his fingers through the hair on his abdomen, stopping just short of touching the dwarf’s prick. 

Thorin retaliated in a more round about way. He paid no direct attention to Bilbo’s cock either, except for squeezing Bilbo’s bum and pulling him closer so that their cocks brushed together in a maddeningly light way that made Bilbo gasp and groan. 

He was more fascinated in how the length of his hand nearly spanned the width of Bilbo’s whole back, and how this meant he could touch as much of Bilbo as possible. It wasn’t enough to satiate his need to be closer, to be surrounded to the point where the only thing that existed, that mattered, was the hobbit, but it was close enough to be intoxicating and spur him on.

“Thorin, please-” Bilbo’s nose brushing against his nose so gently was juxtaposed by the rest of the hobbit pushing forward, crowding against Thorin in a bid for friction and _more_. “I need-” 

What Bilbo needed was quieted by the hobbit capturing Thorin’s bottom lip between his own and sucking on it in a way that had the dwarf whiting out for a few seconds. Without thought, he reached for the vial of oil next to him. Whatever Bilbo needed, Thorin could give him, he knew that much. Oil dribbled over his fingers as he let himself get lost in kissing his One, as though Bilbo could convey what he wanted through how his lips moved against Thorin’s. 

In his efforts to not separate himself from Bilbo anymore than necessary, the fingers on both hands ended up coated in oil, though he hardly thought that was a problem. His right hand circled Bilbo’s cock, stroking soft enough to tease and cause Bilbo to pull back slightly with a gasp, as his left hand slipped lower, his fingers trailing down the cleft of the hobbit’s cheeks until he found the puckered muscle. Another gasp was ripped from Bilbo as he rubbed over the rimmed entrance.

Bilbo’s head dropped to Thorin’s shoulder as he gave a jerk, as though he couldn’t decide between thrusting into Thorin’s fist or pressing against his finger. Thorin couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips as Bilbo said his name with a whimper. “I’ve got you,” he answered into the russet curls, and after a few seconds of pressing, he was accepted into Bilbo.

The hobbit groaned and rolled his hips; Thorin moved with him to allow Bilbo to feel as much pleasure as he wanted. His strokes over the hobbit’s cock were still light, just enough friction to send sparks of pleasure but nothing that would have his hobbit spending before he could bury himself inside. 

“More, more-” Bilbo’s words were huffed against his jaw, and a slight turn of his head allowed Thorin to see his One in the throes of pleasure. Confronted with the hobbit’s usually bright blue eyes being swallowed up by the darkness of lust and flushed face, Thorin found it nearly impossible not to follow the order and withdraw his fingers, only to replace it with two. Bilbo’s expression became pinched for a few seconds, but became lax once more quickly as Thorin found the small bundle that usually had the dwarf crying out. Bilbo, instead, let out a tagged moan and pressed back against Thorin’s head insistently enough to make the dwarf let out a huff of laughter. 

“Thorin-”

“Patience. I won’t hurt you.” _Ever. Not again._ His lips brushed over Bilbo’s temple, his cheek, his cute button nose, on a constant journey to capture his lips once more as he spread his fingers to continue stretching the hobbit. His own cock lay ignored, tucked in the crease between Bilbo’s thigh and sack, and Bilbo’s rocking hips inflamed him just as much as the smooth heat that surrounded his fingers.

It was a slow torture, one that he brought solely on himself, as usual. By the time a third finger entered Bilbo, Thorin could only measure time by the amount of sighs and moans that came from Bilbo. There was a wet, sticky spot on Thorin’s stomach from Bilbo’s quest for friction and he thought that it matched well with the slightly damp spot above his collarbone from the hobbit’s many exhalations. Need had been replaced with caution and tenderness, Thorin thought as he rubbed his right hand up and down Bilbo’s back to help him relax. 

“I’m ready.” Bilbo’s words were whispered against Thorin’s ear, not wanting to break the moment, but another insistent thrust forward meant that Thorin was jabbed with an iron hot reminder that caused him to let out another laugh. 

“You’re sure?” he teased, rubbing against the hobbit’s spot once more.

“Thorin, I swear to Yavanna, if you don’t fuck me right-” Bilbo’s words cut out with a longing moan as Thorin removed his fingers. He watched with some amusement as Bilbo pouted when Thorin took his hands from his body completely and focused on getting more oil to slick himself. 

“I thought you were supposed to be patient?” Bilbo shot him an unimpressed look that only caused Thorin’s grin to grow as he lined himself up. One hand held Bilbo still as he pressed forward. Bilbo’s face in that moment was the most lovely thing he had seen; still flushed, his mouth partially opened, his eyes closed as though he was savoring the moment. Thorin certainly was. 

All the times in his previous life that he had thought about having Bilbo - the times where he had let himself imagine what it would be like - he thought it would be rushed, possessive… shameful. This was the exact opposite. He felt consumed, as though Bilbo could take in all of himself in his safe embrace, and offer Thorin a protection that no one had ever dared before. 

He let out a shaky breath and dropped his head to rest his forehead against Bilbo’s chest. It was a heady thing, to finally join with his One. Bilbo was rolling his hips still, slower than before as he controlled the pace that he took Thorin in, and his hands had found their way into Thorin’s dark locks once more. He brushed his fingers through them softly as Thorin pressed kisses to the bit of skin nearest his lips. He concentrated on breathing, on the slow heat consuming him, and he wanted it to last forever. His hands shook with his restraint where they rested on Bilbo’s waist, and when there was no distance between them any longer, they both let out a sigh of relief. 

“ _Maralmizu_.” Thorin breathed the words into Bilbo’s skin, followed quickly by a choked moan as Bilbo rose again, and the drag of furled muscle against skin made it difficult for Thorin to think of any other words of love he might offer. Everything was only _Bilbo_. 

“Bilbo…” Thorin’s hands wandered, gripping as tightly as he dared as he tried to urge the hobbit to move once more. He felt as though he would be driven mad once more if he couldn’t feel that slick slide again, and he was reminded of how he had coveted Bilbo when he was lost to the gold sickness. 

This wasn’t the same. Similar, maybe, but wholly different. Thorin’s gentle touch over Bilbo’s smooth skin as the hobbit began riding him in earnest was a reminder of that. If he had been able to take Bilbo when he was in the gold sickness, it would have been brutal and selfish and Thorin may have wished for his own death afterwards. This - being with Bilbo, feeling his love, watching as the hobbit chased his pleasure - was completely different. 

It was nearly embarrassing how quickly he felt his own orgasm building. Granted, it had been at least a decade since had last lain with anyone, and none of his previous lovers were comparable to Bilbo, but he had wanted it to last longer, to last forever ideally. 

Thorin’s lips found Bilbo’s in a searing kiss as he swallowed down the hobbit’s moans. Kissing during such a vigorous activity was nearly impossible, however, and their lips parted as Bilbo cried out Thorin’s name again. 

“I’m not going to-”

“No, me neither.” 

Thorin stroked Bilbo’s cock again, all thoughts of teasing out the window as he watched Bilbo’s face. His hobbit was beautiful in his pleasure, though admittedly, Thorin was biased. His head was thrown back once more and soft gasps and moans fell from his mouth in a constant stream, with Thorin’s name interspersed until the wave crashed over him. Warmth spilled over Thorin’s knuckles and Bilbo’s hips stuttered as he clenched around Thorin. Seeing Bilbo like that, so vulnerable, was nearly enough to send Thorin over his own edge. His soiled hand was placed against the hay bale for leverage as he thrust into Bilbo, once, twice, thrice until he coated the hobbit’s insides with hot pulses. 

Bilbo’s head dropped back onto Thorin’s shoulder as he moaned and ground down on the dwarf’s lap. “Don’t tell me you already want to go again,” Thorin croaked. The coital haze lifted and reality pointed out that water was needed after so much grunting and crying.

“Hmmm, give me a few moments and then maybe. You just feel good, just like this.” Bilbo’s words were slurred as he nuzzled against Thorin’s chest. Thorin rubbed his clean hand over the hobbit’s bare back, and he let out a contented sigh. He had no issue with staying just like this until they were both soft and reminded of how sticky they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAAAAY!! The next chapter will pick up directly after this, and then we're off to Mirkwood!
> 
> Khuzdul: _Maralmizu_ = I love you


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling is the worst after a vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back on the move! This chapter is a little bit longer because I wanted to get to the next plot point, but there's still plenty of bagginshield moments and I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> I hope that the slightly longer than normal chapter makes up for the fact that I won't be posting a chapter next Sunday. I don't have the next chapter finished and I won't be able to work on it until next weekend because of a work project I have coming up. I promise I'll make it fluffy and plotty to make up for it! See you in two weeks <3

Eventually, they agreed that they would need to finally separate and get cleaned up. Luckily, there was a small stream not far from the barn, and they both dressed slowly, stiff in different ways from their activities. 

“So, will our courtship be continuing then?” Thorin asked as he pulled his tunic back on, using the moment to cover the ridiculous grin tugging at his lips.

Bilbo snorted in response and Thorin’s head popped out of the neck hole in time to see him run a hand through his hair in a pointless attempt to tame his curls. “What, you think that went badly then?”

“Not in the slightest. I just wanted to see what you thought.”

“You mean you wanted me to stroke your ego.”

“Among other things, yes.”

Bilbo shook his head fondly and closed the distance between them once more to press his lips to Thorin’s softly. “I think we can work with it.” The hobbit tossed a smirk at Thorin before heading to the ladder. The only thing Thorin could do was follow him, and let himself enjoy this moment. There was a lightness about him now. If Bilbo wasn’t in love with him, that was alright - though he had a feeling the hobbit was - it would happen eventually. The hope that he was trying to ignore lest it grow too much was thrumming through his veins and he was happy to just enjoy it for the moment. He was happy. 

Thorin didn’t hesitate to shuck his clothes off again once they got to the stream. It was a thin, winding thing that cut through Beorn’s property, close to the tall hedges that kept out unwanted company. It only went up to his thighs and he was scrubbing at the tacky patch on his belly when he noted that he hadn’t heard Bilbo get in the water yet. 

“ _Amrâlimê?_ ” Bilbo was standing near the edge of the stream, his fingers stilled over the hastily done buttons, though he was looking out over the rest of the land, and Thorin could take a guess about what he was worried about. “No one else will come here.” Bilbo’s eyes met his as he took a few steps closer towards the water. “Courting is very serious to dwarrow, and they would give us privacy. It’s part of the reason I chose this spot, because it is so well hidden. They’d only interrupt us for an emergency, I promise.” 

After a moment, Bilbo sighed and removed his clothes, folding his outer clothes into a separate pile from his soiled smalls. Thorin could see a shiny trail crawling down the back of Bilbo’s thigh, and he moved forward without thought, his mouth watering at seeing the evidence of their lovemaking so blatantly evident. 

“You must think I’m being silly,” Bilbo muttered once he was in the water as well. Thorin immediately moved around him, putting his back to the rest of Beorn’s land to hide Bilbo away from anyone that might come too close. 

Thorin shrugged. “Your privacy is important to you.”

Bilbo was silent for a few moments, and they scrubbed at their skin in relative comfort. Once Thorin felt he was clean - as clean as he could get without soap - he reached out to Bilbo slowly. From what he had been told of the Shire, moments like this between two males, out in a more public space, was frowned upon. His fingers brushed over Bilbo’s arm, and he almost didn’t notice how much the hobbit tensed up before he relaxed into the touch and leaned back against Thorin’s chest. He had seen, though, the tense line of Bilbo’s shoulders for a split second. 

“I’m trying, Thorin.” The dwarf nodded, and pressed his lips to Bilbo’s temple. “Hobbits don’t like different things, as you know. I was...caught before, in little dalliances when I was younger, before I learned just how unacceptable it was.”

“How unacceptable they found it,” Thorin corrected softly. “There is nothing unacceptable about loving someone. Just those with small views think it is limited between a lad and a lass.” These conversations made him angry. The idea that hobbits held such a narrow view, that they made Bilbo try to stifle himself and accept that he would be alone... He took a deep breath and fell silent once more to let Bilbo continue, if he wanted. He squeezed Bilbo tighter, his hands resting on the hobbit’s belly as Bilbo let his head fall back against Thorin’s shoulder.

“You’re right. It’s hard, though, when everyone you know, including your own father, tells you it isn’t right.” Thorin nodded once. “I received a lot of lessons about what it is to be a proper hobbit, and I’m trying to be alright with turning my back on that.”

Thorin pressed another kiss to the hobbit’s temple, lingering this time as he chose his words. “I know.” He rubbed his hand over Bilbo’s side as he tried to push past the feeling that he was going to say something wrong or that Bilbo didn’t care for his reassurances. He knew that Bilbo did, and he had to try, no matter how awkward he may feel about it. “I can’t say how grateful I am that you’re trying so hard because of someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” Bilbo turned his head slightly to face Thorin, and the dwarf couldn’t help but let out a huff of laughter at the confused expression on his face. 

“I just meant - there are far better choices than myself. I’m glad you chose me.”

“Sometimes I wonder at you. You’re the most handsome creature I’ve ever seen, you’re kind and brilliant, not to mention that you’re literally a king.” Thorin’s face felt as though it was on fire at the slew of compliments. Bilbo let out a snort of laughter. “And then you say things like that, and I am reminded of how utterly ridiculous you can be as well. ‘Better choices’, honestly.” 

What was he supposed to say to that? Thorin couldn’t think of anything that weren’t protests to his greatness - if he were to tell Bilbo everything that he considered evidence against his One’s point, his opinion may change too drastically - and so he only brushed a soft kiss to the apple of Bilbo’s cheek. He would do no more than that in public. 

“If you like, I can always teach you how to be a proper dwarf,” Thorin offered, and grinned as Bilbo started laughing. 

“You think I have any hope of being a proper dwarf?”

“I think you are more dwarven when you are not so concerned about propriety.” 

Bilbo smirked and pressed on to his toes to kiss Thorin. “Like I told you, I’m trying.” 

Thorin hardly wanted to leave the little stream. He knew that doing so would mean more teasing from the Company, as well as preparing to leave for Mirkwood, which he had yet to come up with a solid plan for. He doubted that Gandalf would approve of his idea of attempting to go around the massive Wood, or his dear wish of just storming the Elf King’s palace to punch him. 

“I have something for you,” Bilbo’s voice cut into his thoughts about Mirkwood, and he shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He still had a few days to come up with something. 

They were each getting dressed in their slightly cleaner outer layers, and their soiled smallclothes were tucked away in pockets until they were able to clean them. Thorin made a mental note to bring a washcloth or something else to clean up with the next time he and Bilbo could slip away. After losing most of their belongings in the Goblin tunnels, they couldn’t afford to constantly have to be washing their clothing. 

“What is it?”

Bilbo’s hand was in his pocket, clutching something, and there was a nervous look on his face. Thorin felt a spike of fear shoot up his spine. He had a mad thought that Bilbo was going to hold out the Ring to him, and Thorin was fighting to not take a step back. He thought that he might be able to resist the call of the Ring, but the gold…

“I’m nowhere near the level of a dwarf, I know, but my father enjoyed wood carving and taught me some things. Bofur helped me finish it,” Bilbo continued to speak, oblivious to the fear and then the confusion that ravaged Thorin. He didn’t look up into the dwarf’s face until he had opened his hand and showed the wooden bead in the middle of his palm. It was a light wood, and Thorin was certain that the wood had come from Beorn’s woodpile, with a pattern of leaves painstakingly etched into it to form the design. 

“Oak leaves?” Thorin murmured, a soft smile on his face as he picked up the bead. 

“I thought it was fitting. Is it- Do you like it?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“I’m sure you’ve gotten better courtship gifts,” Bilbo replied, shrugging self-consciously. Thorin quickly closed the distance between them to press his lips to the hobbit’s, the bead clenched tightly in his fist as he tossed all thoughts of privacy out the window. 

“I have never gotten a courtship gift,” he confessed softly. Bilbo’s eyes widened in surprise, and Thorin continued. “Even if I had, none would mean so much to me compared to this. You could have gifted me a particularly impressive stone and I would have loved it.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Bilbo replied dryly. “Since I have to come up with six more.”

Thorin let out a laugh and pressed another soft kiss to the hobbit’s lips. “This is very impressive. Will you braid it in?”

Bilbo only hesitated for a moment before he nodded and gestured for Thorin to sit in front of him. Thorin offered instructions for a braid of intent, his eyes closed with contentment at the feel of Bilbo’s nimble fingers in his hair once more. 

Once it was in, Thorin sighed happily and reached behind him to pull Bilbo into his lap again, and happily ignored the surprised squawk that came from his hobbit. “This is going to be my seat from now on, isn’t it?” There was a scowl on Bilbo’s face, but Thorin could tell the difference in his eyes, how they crinkled with happiness rather than anger. 

“As long as you are comfortable with that, I see no issue with it.”

Bilbo let out a laugh and pressed a fleeting kiss to Thorin’s lips before scrambling up. “Come on, my King. I think it’s just about time for tea.” 

Thorin shook his head but followed after the hobbit. He felt lighter than he had in a long time, and he thought a prayer of thanks to Mahal for giving him exactly what he needed in the shape of a fussy hobbit of the Shire. 

~*~*~*~

“There is a hidden path through Mirkwood that will take us closer to the mountain than the Old Forest Road would, though it will be treacherous.” 

Thorin looked up at the wizard, blinking slowly. He had no idea how long Gandalf had been sitting next to him, which would have been a little disconcerting if they were anywhere but Beorn’s lands. He had been watching his nephews attempt to teach Bilbo how to use his little sword, with varying degrees of success. They were managing to annoy Bilbo into attacking them properly, and then attempting to correct him afterwards, which was only serving to make the hobbit more irate. 

It was thoroughly amusing to Thorin, and he was planning on taking Bilbo aside to teach him properly after dinner, as he had the night before. Though, that had varying results as well, as his plan to reward successful attacks with kisses meant that the lesson was quickly derailed. 

“A hidden path? I assume it cuts through the Northern part of the Wood, and passes fairly close to Thranduil’s halls?”

Gandalf blinked and raised an eyebrow at Thorin, who only offered him a cheeky grin. The wizard let out a huff and pulled out his long pipe. As he packed it, he grumbled, “Your happiness has somehow made you more unpleasant to be around.”

“Thank you.” 

For a few moments, they both watched Fili and Kili as the lads circled Bilbo, poking and prodding him until the hobbit growled with frustration and darted around them, using his speed to whack them with the broad side of his sword. Thorin laughed quietly as the hobbit grinned spitefully every time one of the lads let out a yelp of pain. He supposed it was a good thing that at least Bilbo was learning how to use his strengths to his advantage. 

“What is your plan then? There is no way to get to Erebor without going through Mirkwood.”

“We could go around,” Thorin suggested with a shrug. 

“That would take nearly three months if we went around the Southern border! And before you say it, it would be nearly a month to go around the Northern borders, which I will remind you would bring us too close to both Mount Gundabad and the Withered Heath.” Gandalf was practically spitting mad by the time he finished his argument, and Thorin merely blinked slowly at him. He was attempting to push his own anger down. He had not felt a spike of anger since they first came to Beorn’s lands, since Azog was killed, and he was reluctant to let himself give in to it now. 

“A month to go around the Northern border would put us at the mountain around the same time we were there last time, with only days to spare,” Thorin answered quietly. His gaze wandered, flicking back to his nephews and One, and then around them to make sure that none of the Company, particularly Nori, was close enough to hear them. “Not to mention, we would not have to deal with the foul spells resting in that Wood.”

“It would only take us a few weeks to cross on the Elf Path,” Gandalf argued. The wizard made no attempt to lessen his glare, and if Thorin had not been assured by his Maker that he could trust Gandalf, he might worry for his life. As it was, he offered the wizard a humorless smile. 

“Should have, yes, but you were not with us last time, and I am not sure what even you could do with Thranduil, should we happen to run into him. I believe he likes you only a little better than he likes me.”

“What-?”

“For someone who insists that sharing details could change too much, you try to ask me what happened last time an awful lot,” Thorin commented wryly as he raised a pointed eyebrow.

Gandalf grumbled to himself once more, and Thorin leaned back to resume his watch of the training. However, in the time he spent talking with the wizard, it seemed to have devolved into a game of tag as the weapons lay forgotten in the tall grass. They also seemed to have gotten more of the Company involved, and Thorin watched with amusement as Gloin was tagged by a sneaking Nori and attempted to catch Bilbo before going for the easier target of Bifur. 

“Going above it then? Even if it means more trials that you know nothing of?”

Thorin sighed and glanced over at Gandalf. For once, the wizard’s expression was not the insufferably knowing or the amused twinkling that it adopted when he was plotting. Genuine concern showed in those weary eyes, worried that he wouldn’t be able to protect the Company without Thorin’s foreknowledge. 

“I do. I do not think we would run into many orcs.” Just to be safe, Thorin took a small stone from one of his pockets and buried it in the dirt at his side and gave it seven soft pats. It was superstitious, yes, but he hardly wanted to test Mahal and have more difficult trials. Only after he had warded off the bad luck did he turn back to Gandalf to offer reasoning. “They are leaderless without Azog. We should have some time before someone else steps into the Defiler’s role.” 

Gandalf raised an eyebrow and glanced between the spot where the rock laid buried and Thorin’s eyes. “Very well. I shall talk to Beorn and see if and how much he is willing to help us.”

Thorin nodded his thanks and then rose to his feet. “We should probably leave tomorrow or the day after, to ensure we go around the Wood with enough time to spare.” Gandalf nodded in agreement and they parted. The wizard, presumably, to find Beorn, and Thorin to join in on the impromptu game of tag, to the amusement and joy of his Company. He knew it would likely be the last extended moments of joy and comfort that they had for quite a while. 

~*~*~*~

They left two days later. Thorin was aware that Gandalf was annoyed by his hesitancy to leave, and there was a part of him that was as well. There was a schedule that needed to be kept, and even if he knew that going around Mirkwood would likely mean they didn’t save more than a week from when they had been kept in Thranduil’s cells for a month, he couldn’t bring himself to rush them all out the door. Balin and Dwalin had taken one look at him as he explained his reasons, as much as he could, just as he had with the wizard, and nodded in agreement. It would be hard, they knew, but legions of orcs were preferable to that elf-infested land.

He had known, when he woke the previous morning, wrapped around Bilbo like a vine with the hobbit’s fingers trailing through his hair, that he couldn’t make them leave that day. His Company had been through so much already, and would go through so much more, and they all deserved peace, just for a little longer. Beorn was all too happy with an additional day with his ponies and the Company, and Thorin thought that the large Man may actually miss them a bit when they left. 

Their last true day had been spent much the same as the ones that came before it. The Company relaxed, ate, repaired what supplies they had with them, and packed the supplies that Beorn had given them. Some of them were helping Beorn around the property in thanks; Thorin had spotted Dori mending some of the Man’s ripped clothing, though he surely knew it was a little pointless, and Bifur had been spotted oiling some hinges. 

Fili and Kili continued their training lessons with Bilbo, until Thorin dragged the hobbit away for proper lessons. That training session had been more productive, since Thorin insisted that Bilbo should be able to defend himself properly in case they did run into orcs, though there were still plenty of breaks for kisses. Thorin could hardly be blamed for that.

The morning of their departure was accompanied by a subdued energy, as though everyone was just remembering that they were on a quest and were likely to find a dragon at the end of it. Even those that knew that they would likely be successful were quiet. Balin and Dwalin were double and triple checking their supplies and ponies while Thorin checked on each of the Company. He noted with some amusement that Bilbo seemed to be trailing him; not quite getting into the conversations but always around. 

“Did you need something, _ghivashel_?” Thorin asked after he was sure that Ori didn’t need anything. Bilbo let out a soft huff and then drew up next to Thorin. 

“Not particularly. I was more interested in what a king does when inspiring his soldiers.” 

Thorin raised an eyebrow and couldn’t stop the amused smile pulling at his lips. Bilbo rolled his eyes and offered him a shrug. “Well, you’re not likely to learn following me around right now. These dwarrow aren’t my soldiers.” A frown appeared between Bilbo’s brows, and he nudged the hobbit to look back over the rest of the Company as he explained. “They’re closer to family for me. Nevermind that half of them are directly related to me in some way. I have been through much with each of them, and could never treat them as mere soldiers when they are so much more than that. I assure you, I would never play a game of tag with my soldiers.” Bilbo let out a laugh and a soft smile pulled at his lips as though he was remembering the day before fondly. 

“So checking on them, you wouldn’t do that with soldiers?”

Thorin shrugged. “I have never really had to lead soldiers. I was a soldier myself at the Battle of Azanulbizar, and my role models were a goldsick King and my anxious father. That is something I will have to figure out once we reclaim the mountain.” Bilbo nodded and made to step away. “But why do you want to know?”

Oddly, a blush was burning bright on the hobbit’s cheeks when he turned to face Thorin again. “Well... Balin was explaining that I would likely become consort when Erebor was reclaimed. I just thought it might be something useful to know, how a king acts and all.”

Thorin watched Bilbo, and he knew his face betrayed just how badly he wanted that future and how touched he was that Bilbo was already considering it and trying to prepare himself. He stepped closer and brushed a kiss over the hobbit’s unruly curls. “You’re more than welcome to ask me any questions, though I will remind you that I hardly act as a King would.” Bilbo nodded and wrapped his arms around Thorin’s waist, leaning in to him for a moment. “It is something we can learn together, when the time comes. Though, I have a feeling you’ll be far better than I will be.” 

That startled a laugh out of Bilbo, as it was intended. Thorin let Bilbo go reluctantly to finish packing up, and he tried to ignore how the future they were speaking of was still so distant. He might well be crowned as King shortly after Smaug is killed, certainly, but he wouldn’t be king in truth until after- Well, after going to Mordor and helping to destroy the Ring, and he couldn’t guarantee that he would return from such a venture. Perhaps it would be better if he just went ahead and crowned Fili-

“Thorin.” Balin’s voice cut through Thorin’s anxious thoughts, and he shook his head sharply to get rid of them. He was getting ahead of himself. Far, far too ahead of himself. He needed to focus on each bit at a time. Getting around Mirkwood would not be much easier than going through it, he was sure, and he couldn’t be distracted by thoughts of something so far in the future. 

“What is it?”

“We’re all ready to go, lad.” Thorin looked him over, taking in the white beard and weary eyes. He was constantly amazed that Balin looked so old - distinguished, as he would say - when he was nearly twenty years younger than Thorin. He was sure it came along with the stress of advising a displaced king. 

“You’re alright?”

A wry smile tugged at Balin’s lips as he nodded. “Aye. Just worried. Even knowing what I know, I can’t help but expect the worst.” 

Thorin nodded and clapped a hand on his advisor’s shoulder. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. We’ll get through this, and then we’ll be home.” Balin nodded and they made their way to the ponies. “By the way, thank you for telling Bilbo about being Consort,” he added dryly. “That could have scared him off.”

A very undignified snort came from Balin and he shook his head. “You don’t see how he looks at you when you’re not giving him mooneyes. That lad isn’t going anywhere.” 

The warmth in his chest that had quickly become associated with Bilbo flared up once more, and it took a considerable amount of effort to keep a grin from his face. Instead, he only shot Balin an unimpressed look before going to his pony at the head of the line. 

Beorn was waiting, standing next to a horse that Thorin was sure didn’t belong on these lands. Gandalf was perched on top of the horse, his eyes glued firmly to the hedges that kept out the rest of Middle Earth, as though he was anticipating danger to happen upon them as soon as they left their sanctuary. Considering their luck, Thorin couldn’t blame the wizard for his worry. 

“Thank you, Master Beorn.” Thorin felt as though there should be more said; he should explain all the different ways that their days on Beorn’s lands had helped them and how much it meant to them. But Thorin knew that Beorn was a Man of few words. The way that he could show his thanks would be through actions. “We will send your ponies back once we reach the Northern border of Mirkwood.” 

Beorn nodded and stroked the nose of Thorin’s pony. “Thank you. It is good that you chose not to go into the Wood. I’m sure you know how perilous it is.” 

Thorin nodded, and shot Beorn a wry smile at the memories that had come to mind. The Man grinned and then stepped back with a final nod. “I hope we meet again,” Thorin said before spurring his pony forward. Gandalf was at his side immediately, with the rest of the Company behind them. 

By Gandalf’s guess, it would take them about two days to reach the North-west point of the forest. It would still take weeks for them to reach the other side and then go south, but having the ponies while they did was nothing to sneer at. However, Thorin was not fond of the low energy of his Company. There was no reason for them to get lost in their worries of the trials they would face - not yet. For a few days yet, they would be alright. Thorin was fairly certain of that, at least. 

“Bofur!” Thorin called back to the miner and spotted him quickly. The odd hat was a useful thing for that exact purpose, and Bofur perked up from where he and Bilbo had been chatting. “Sing us a song? This lot is too quiet.” 

“Yessir!” Bofur’s grin was bordering on inappropriate, and Thorin smirked to himself. Whatever song he chose was sure to be lewd enough to get everyone to react or join in, which was exactly what they needed. 

Sure enough, there were several songs with not-so-cleverly hidden innuendos about dwarrow and dams, and Thorin found himself with Bilbo next to him quickly. “You realize that you won’t get away from the songs up here,” Thorin pointed out with a grin. Indeed, by the second song, most of the Company had joined in, while Dori was attempting to ride close enough to Ori to cover the scribe’s ears. Nori was doing a fantastic job of getting in the way of his two brothers to prevent that. 

“I do, but I figured that I could come and ride with the dwarf responsible and glare at him.”

“Oh, yes, that will make sure I learn my lesson,” Thorin agreed, nodding as though that was exactly what would happen. From his left, he heard Gandalf let out a soft grumble of what sounded like Elvish, and then he fell back into the Company.

“Is there a reason Gandalf just mumbled ‘this is so much worse’?” Bilbo glanced back at Gandalf in confusion before raising an eyebrow at Thorin. 

“So it was Elvish then? I wasn’t sure. And yes, apparently I’m even more unbearable to be around now that I’m happy. Though, for some reason, I’m getting all the blame for that, when it's your fault.”

Bilbo’s laugh rang out over the raucous singing. “I suppose I can understand. Prim was nearly impossible to be around when she and Drogo started courting, and he was no better. Though, I think I can hardly fault them now. I understand it,” Bilbo finished softly, a small smile appearing as he looked over at Thorin. 

Thorin nodded and reached out to squeeze Bilbo’s hand. They couldn’t do much more than that; the ponies didn’t like walking so close to one another, but it was enough for now. “Clearly we need to get Gandalf courting someone so he’ll leave us alone.”

“You’re kidding,” Thorin replied, and he couldn’t keep the pleading quality out of his voice. He had no desire for Gandalf to be alone or anything like that, but he was- Well, Gandalf. He was a wizard! And from what Mahal had said, it sounded like he was much more than that as well, though Thorin was sure that he would have difficulty understanding it. 

“I’m not. I see no reason why he should grumble when he could just as easily find someone.” 

Thorin shook his head in disbelief and let himself get swept up into a debate about the wizard’s love life, of all things. A few times he glanced behind him to see if Gandalf could hear them, but the wizard showed no reaction. Only when he mentioned the Lady Galadriel did he hear a snort from behind him, but when he glanced back, Gandalf’s face was inscrutable as ever. 

They camped that night with the forest to their right, and Thorin noticed that all of his dwarrow were doing an admirable job of not looking too much at the trees. Dwarrow had no issue with trees or nature, though they were certainly more fond of mountains and their stone halls. But there was something about these trees that even his Company knew was wrong, without Thorin having to point it out. 

Bilbo continued glancing at the forest, though. “It feels wrong, even from here.” Thorin nodded in response and took the hobbit’s hand. “I didn’t notice before when we were riding, but-”

“I know. We’re not going in there,” he reminded the hobbit, which was met with a nod. 

None of them were looking forward to giving up the ponies when they woke the next morning. Gandalf was convinced they would reach the turning point by late afternoon, and then it would all be on foot, which Nori was already loudly complaining about. 

“We aren’t even on the horses yet. Shut up, will you?” Dwalin growled at the thief, and Thorin let out a sigh before leaving his pony to get in the middle of them. They had been better on the quest, but they were the two who got along the least, with their long history back in Ered Luin. 

Before he could get too far, Bilbo snagged his arm. “Wait, I- I think someone’s coming.” Thorin stopped and followed Bilbo’s gaze. All he could see were plains stretching out to the treeline, and beyond that darkness. A glance at Bilbo showed him that the hobbit was squinting, trying to see whatever it was better. “Elves,” he breathed. 

Gandalf pulled up next to them and nodded. “I imagine we’ll be able to see them in a few moments. Hobbits have keen eyes, though nowhere near elves.”

Thorin remembered. Those keen eyes had saved the quest on more than one occasion, and he gave Bilbo’s arm a soft squeeze. “You think we should wait?”

“There’s only a few of them.” Bilbo said, taking his eyes off Thorin for a moment. 

“That doesn’t mean they don’t mean us harm.” 

“The elves of Mirkwood do not leave their trees for small matters, and we are far enough from the trees that they have no reason to feel threatened. They are coming to us for a reason.” Gandalf’s voice quieted the protestations that came from the rest of the Company. Thorin knew that the wizard had a point, but he couldn’t help but feel irritated. He had almost gotten away with not having to deal with any of Thranduil’s people, and whatever these elves wanted, he was sure that he was not going to like it. 

“Fine. We’ll wait to see what they want. But if they try to detain us-”

“If they do, I’m sure we’ll be able to handle it,” Bilbo cut in and laid a calming hand on Thorin’s arm. Gandalf had been about to argue back, and instead they both turned their eyes on the treeline again. Thorin was just able to make out a few shapes that were stepping into the sun. 

“Bombur, go ahead and make a second breakfast. We’ll eat while we wait for them to meet us, and offer some when they arrive.” Gandalf nodded in approval, which Thorin rolled his eyes at. Sometimes, the idea of having to be the bigger person was extremely annoying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think they want? Come tell me on my [tumblr](https://ahufflepuffhobbit.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
